


Earthbound

by Bones (thepiesandthebees)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Cas, Bottom Dean, Destiel - Freeform, M/M, Season 9, Sexual Content, Top Cas, Top Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-20
Updated: 2015-01-20
Packaged: 2018-03-08 09:03:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 21,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3203546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepiesandthebees/pseuds/Bones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Sam team up with Castiel to investigate the mysterious tengu, spirits of nature whose coats can hide soul energy. Tengus are notorious, however, for their mischief and insight into the desires of mortals. Dean, of course, gets the bad end of a tengu's deal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Flufflybunnypants](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flufflybunnypants/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story was originally posted on my blog on Tumblr, which you can find at this link: http://thepiesandthebees.tumblr.com/

Somewhere outside of New Orleans...

After two phone calls, a fair amount of cursing, and some studying of maps, Sam and Dean were in the Impala, heading for Oasis Plains, Oklahoma. I-10 was empty this time of night, leaving the road free to them. Normally, Dean took comfort in the sense of isolation and quiet that the open road brought, but he was scowling all the way to US-190.

“Dean?” Sam said, unable to ignore his brother’s silent seething any longer.

Dean clenched his jaw and took a breath. “What, Sam?”

“You can slow down, y’know. It’s a nine hour drive to Oklahoma, and we’ve got the time.”

Dean didn’t answer, eyes transfixed ahead. After a long minute of silence, Sam muttered, “This is about Cas, isn’t it?”

The knuckles on Dean’s hands whitened as his grip on the steering wheel tightened. He didn’t answer.

Sam sighed. “So you’re just gonna sit there and simmer? It’s been three days since—”

“Shut up, Sam.”

“No. I am sick of you and Cas tiptoeing around each other over whatever happened in New Orleans, and now you’re racing off to the next job like you can outrun him. He’s an angel, Dean.”

The tendons in Dean’s neck strained under his skin. “Yeah, I noticed.”

Sam scoffed. “You’re so full of shit, you know that? I don’t know what happened with you two, but he’s your friend. At least talk it out.”

“I know you’re big on the whole talking thing, but it’s none of your goddamn business. So just leave it alone.”

A hand gripped the back of Sam’s seat. “Leave what alone?”

The car swerved when Dean jumped. “Jesus Christ!”

Castiel sat in the back seat, an odd look on his face. “No, I am not, but I do respect him very much.”

“Yeah, you’re real freakin’ funny.”

Castiel’s brows furrowed. “I don’t understand. What was the joke?”

Sam jumped in before Dean could provide a quip. “Cas, what are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be rallying angels or something?”

“My grace has been unbalanced. I was…sleeping.”

“Sleeping? Back there? Since when?”

Castiel ran a hand through his mussed hair. “Since we killed the tengu.”

Dean took a second away from being angry. “That was last night. You’ve been sleeping all day?”

Castiel rubbed his temples. “I’ve been unbalanced since…” He trailed off and glanced at Dean. “It started three days ago, and it’s getting worse. I’m starting to feel…human.”

“But if you lose your grace,” said Sam, “you’ll die, won’t you?”

Castiel let out a tired breath. “Yes.”

Dean’s gut twisted. “How do we…balance…your grace or whatever?”

“I don’t know, Dean. I only know one other angel who experienced something like this, and Michael killed her.”

“Ana.” Dean’s anger was draining, concern replacing it. “Do you know anything we can work with?”

Castiel paused in thought. “She mentioned to me once that she thought humans led a more fulfilling life. She viewed angels as emotionless, without will. Right before she fell, I noticed there was something odd about her. She seemed tired—or maybe ‘less energetic’ is a better description. I don’t know if it was the same or if it was even related at all.”

“It’s something.” Dean lowered his hands to the bottom of the steering wheel, shoulders relaxing. “So do you think this has something to do with human interaction?”

Castiel looked away, which didn’t go unnoticed. “Maybe.” A heavy silence followed.

Sam glanced between his brother and the angel. “Okay. What are you two not telling me? What happened in New Orleans?”

Dean tensed up again in an instant. “It doesn’t matter.”

Castiel rubbed the back of his neck. “I didn’t mean it, Dean.”

“I am not talking about this now.”

“I really didn’t mean it that way. It…” Castiel took a breath. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

Dean shook his head. “No, I think you made it pretty damn clear what you meant.”

Castiel leaned back in his seat, wrapping his trench coat closer. His face was flushed, and his breathing was shallower and slightly uneven—as if he were ill. Dean couldn’t help but notice it and struggled between anger and worry. “Can you call someone, Cas?” he asked. “One of your angel buddies? Maybe they can help you out.”

“This is unheard of, Dean.” Castiel pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’ve asked around. No one knows anything.”

“Shit.” Dean rubbed his eyes tiredly. “We can’t just take you with us on a job when you’re like this.”

Sam grimaced. “Cas, you should take a break. I mean, we’re just checking out a flimsy lead on Metatron. We probably won’t find anything.”

Castiel frowned. “This is a break. I don’t think I have the strength to lead the angels or play Metatron’s game.”

Dean wasn’t sure how to feel, so the sarcasm emerged. “Great, so we’ll just cart you around Oklahoma while doing a job. Solid plan.”

“I am well enough, and it’s my job to investigate Metatron. Is that not why I was with you in New Orleans?”

Sam observed how Dean seemed to inwardly cringe at even the mention of Louisiana’s most renowned city. “You should rest, Cas. Dean and I can do this ourselves.”

Castiel breathed deeply and closed his eyes. “Until my grace stabilizes, I can’t go anywhere. As soon as we get to Oklahoma, I’ll call—” He paused a moment. “—one of my angel buddies to get me.”

Dean stared at the road ahead and tried not to think about the past week. “We ever tell you about Oasis Plains?”

Castiel kept his eyes closed as he mumbled a soft, “No.”

“It used to be a housing development,” Sam explained, “but it was built in a valley guarded by a Native-American curse. Bugs attacked and killed everyone who messed with the land. We didn’t break the curse, but the developer assured us no one would ever live there again. Crowley called us up about it. He said that the developer has been trying to find us and gave us his number, so we called the developer. He said that someone else has pushed to reestablish the houses, backed by Boyle Ministries, Inc.”

Castiel’s eyes shot open. “I thought they went down when I killed Bartholomew.”

“Yeah, we did, too. That’s why we think Metatron might have something to do with it.” Sam glanced back at Castiel who was lying across the backseat. “Just like…Merrick and the tengu. Cas, are you going to sleep again?”

“No. I’m just…resting my eyes.” Castiel turned his face away. Dean kept glancing back at him in the rear view mirror, still pissed off and incredibly worried. After a minute, he sighed, put on his poker face, and turned on the radio.


	2. Chapter 2

Four days earlier…

Bird-like, Japanese spirits of nature called tengu had invaded New Orleans two weeks ago with Metatron’s angels on their heels. The leading theory about why Metatron would want the tengu had to do with the spirits’ coats, which made the wearer invisible—even from Death. It also made the tengu incredibly difficult to find. They preyed on the desires of others, tricking people into trading their most prized possessions for a wish. But as the bodies suggested, the wishes weren’t working out.

The most recent victim of the tengu was Evan Massie, a bank teller who unknowingly traded his daughter to bring his wife back from the dead. Massie got his wife back for a time until the tengu came to collect, stealing away the daughter for the gods to eat. Distraught, the wife took a hairdryer into the bathtub, and Evan blew the back of his head off with a shotgun.

The victim before Massie was Elaine Ballard, an ex-marine who unknowingly traded her courage to cure her brother’s cancer. Her brother lived, but she was so fearful of everything that she became a recluse and wasted away in bed, too afraid to eat or drink or move. There were five other victims, and all seven had visited an underground casino for the Japanese game of Cho-Han not long before their “wishes” were granted.

The Winchesters walked on the sidewalk of downtown New Orleans with Castiel following behind them. Despite the late hour, the streets were still crawling with people.

“It’s very loud here,” the angel mumbled, looking around curiously.

Dean looked down at the slip of paper in his hand where he’d scrawled the casino’s address. “That’s what big cities are like, Cas.”

“Do they also all have fascinations with seafood and prostitution?”

The brothers exchanged glances. “I’m sure many do,” Sam said.

Castiel hummed to himself thoughtfully. They kept walking in silence until they came to a building with a pink, neon sign reading “The Sailor’s Dock,” which made Dean chuckle and Castiel confused. Sam rolled his eyes at his brother before stepping inside. The room was dimly lit with half-naked women gyrating against poles and “entertaining” the patrons. Thumping music vibrated the walls and floor.

“Dude,” Dean whispered to his brother. “We should get a lap dance for Cas.”

Sam gave his brother an unimpressed look. “No, we’re on a job.”

“C’mon. The guy could use it.”

“So you can make him uncomfortable?”

“Not like he’s a virgin anymore.”

Sam sighed and shook his head.

“I can hear you both,” Castiel muttered behind them. “I am a celestial being.” He paused. “Haven’t I already said this?”

A small, Asian woman walked up—wearing only a black bra, matching thong, and stilettos. “Welcome to the The Sailor’s Dock,” she greeted. “How may I help you gentleman today?”

Dean was too preoccupied with staring at the woman’s scantily clad figure to respond, so Sam spoke up. “We’re looking to play Cho-Han.”

A slow smile spread her glossed lips. “Follow me, then, sugar.” She walked around the edge of the room, and the men followed. They came to a door in the far back, tucked away in a corner. Japanese characters lined the door’s front. The woman pushed it open and started down a concrete stairwell. At the bottom was a lobby-like room with another door. Shoes lined the perimeter in pairs.

“Remove your shoes,” the woman instructed. “You cannot enter otherwise.”

The men exchanged looks before taking their shoes off and putting them with the other pairs. The woman stepped out of her heels and opened the door. An odd but refreshing scent wafted through. She walked in, followed by the men.

Woven straw mats made the floor in squares, each one edged with red cloth. People sat on cushions with their heels under them. Some had a cup in front of them or dice. “I know you boys don’t play,” the woman said and turned to face them. “So let’s get down to business. Sojobo would like to see you.”

“Sojo—who?” Dean said.

Sam paled. “Dean, Sojobo is the king of the tengu.”

The woman smiled. “I am Moriko, Sojobo’s advisor. We’ve been expecting you.”

“If you knew we were here, why not kill us?” Dean asked.

“Because we need your help, and you need to make sure Metatron doesn’t catch up to us.”

Castiel grimaced. “We’re not going to assist you in murdering people.”

She shook her head. “That’s not what we’re here for. I suggest you listen before you come to the wrong conclusion.” She stepped aside. “You see that door over there?” She pointed to a red door with Japanese characters on it at the very back of the room. “It leads to Sojobo’s chamber. Don’t keep him waiting.”

When the Winchesters started for the door, Moriko took Castiel’s arm, holding him back. Without moving her mouth, she said, “Mind your manners, angel. Sojobo doesn’t care for your war, and he’s ten times more powerful than your archangels.”

Castiel watched her saunter off before following the brothers to the red door. It opened before they touched it. “Well, that’s not ominous,” Dean muttered. Once they stepped in, the door closed behind them.

It was completely dark except for the light of a single candle illuminating the face of an old man. His nose was unusually long and hooked downward, like a bird’s beak, and streams of white hair fell from his head around his vague form. His eyes glowed as golden as the candle’s flame. “Sit,” he said in a deep, crackly voice, but his mouth didn’t move.

Sam and Dean sat cross-legged on the floor while Castiel sat on his heels. “The angel is more respectful than the Winchester brothers,” said the man. “Or perhaps less ignorant.”

The brothers couldn’t see Castiel well enough to know what he was doing correctly. “Are you Sojobo?” Sam asked.

“In one story. You may refer to me as such, if it pleases you.”

“Would you like us to call you something different?”

“Names are of the physical realm. I am not part of such. I am Sojobo, Amun, Uranus, Caelus, Anu, Dyaus Pitra, and many more. I am also none of them. I would assume you would prefer the name you came to know me by first.”

Dean grimaced. “All right, Sojobo. Mind telling us what’s up with you killing people?”

“I did not kill your people.”

“Well, then, who did?” Sam asked.

Sojobo stared at the younger brother a moment. Mouth still unmoving, he said in a low voice, “I am bound to the Earth, and She is bound to me. We exist both in the corporeal and incorporeal realms. Our children, however, must be aided by Death and Life to venture between the two realms. My children, the ones you know as tengu, were born to the forests. They are the spirits and protectors of nature, then you humans cut down our trees and burned the land. My children are lost. Some still believe in me to keep them safe and guide them to a new land, but others have sought another means to live. They feed off human desire, the focus of free will. And I cannot stop them.”

Dean’s brows furrowed. “Why can’t you stop them?”

“Your petty power struggle for Heaven has left me weak. Thousands of angels, celestial entities meant to stay in Heaven, landed on Earth all at once. Now, I must dedicate all my power to maintaining earthly balance, and the one you call Metatron is now trying to take advantage of that.”

Sam looked confused. “Earthly balance?”

“Surely you’ve had enough conversations with Death to know there is an order to things. When you upset that order, there are terrible consequences—like the Fall, you Winchesters returning from Hell, Castiel’s consumption of Purgatory, and now the fight for Heaven. Chaos has a tendency to follow you three.”

“Death your buddy?” Dean said.

Sojobo’s golden eyes set on the older brother. “Death is a dear friend. I remember when he was born.”

The brothers and Cas all paused a moment to process that information. “Wait. So you’re saying you’re older than Death?” Sam said.

“In one story. Age is relative. According to the same story, I am also older than Life. She was kind enough to give me this corporeal body, just as she gave you yours.” Sojobo’s eyes turned white. “In this story, my children move on and find a new forest before Metatron finds them. The rogue tengu will not come with us and will be vulnerable to having their coats stolen. Should Metatron succeed, you will likely be unable to fight him, which is why I must ask you to kill the children left behind. Their coats’ do not hide them from Death, as another story says, but they do hide soul energy, an invaluable ability. Killing my children will destroy the coats’ power. It is the only way, as much as it pains me.”

Dean wasn’t sure about Sojobo’s request. “How do we know you and the tengu aren’t going to start killing somewhere else?”

“My children are the spirits of nature. If you kill all of them, the Earth will die, a fact I’m sure Metatron would not hesitate to exploit.” Sojobo’s eyes returned to gold and focused on Castiel. “But you already knew that.”

The candle went out, encasing the room in complete darkness. “Your task is set before you,” said Sojobo. “I wish you luck, Team Free Will.”

A throaty chuckle echoed in the dark before the door opened, casting light into the room, but Sojobo was nowhere to be seen. The brothers and Castiel looked back to see Moriko standing in the doorway, a black satin robe tied around her form. “I’ll send you the dossiers of all the rogue tengu tomorrow morning,” she said. “I suggest you get rest in the meantime.” She tossed Dean a bracelet made of black cord with a red pearl woven into it. “This is for you, courtesy of Sojobo. He says it’s for stress-relief.”

Dean stared at the bracelet a moment before slipping it on his wrist. A sense of calm swept over him, making the muscles he hadn’t known were tense go lax. Sam got to his feet with Castiel, but Dean sat and stared at the bracelet. A corner of Moriko’s lips slid up before she walked away.

“You okay?” Sam asked, offering his brother a hand.

Dean nodded and took the hand. “Yeah,” he mumbled as he stood. “Dude, this thing is better than a Thai massage.” He glanced at Castiel and a strange feeling shot through him. It lingered in his chest, making it hard to breathe.

The angel gave him an odd look. “Is something the matter?”

“No, it’s just…huh…” Dean trailed off and looked away. The feeling was still there. “Let’s go back to the motel. I’m beat.”

As Sam and Castiel walked out, Dean fiddled with the bracelet on his wrist.


	3. Chapter 3

Oasis Plains, Oklahoma: Present day…

The housing development hadn’t changed much from when Sam and Dean had visited almost a decade ago—which made the brothers question what sort of political games had prevented the previous developer from shutting the place down entirely. He had said that he’d found someone to buy all the land and keep it vacant until it could be repurposed. Recently, the buyer had changed his mind, deciding to start housing development again and abandon the plans to turn the valley into a lake. That had sparked debate with the city council, but the buyer, backed by Boyle Ministries, Inc, was winning. Currently, no one but the buyer was living in the development, and for reasons unknown, the bugs weren’t around to protest.

“The steam shower is still awesome,” Dean said as he walked into the kitchen, wearing only a towel around his waist. Sam glanced up from his laptop, shook his head, and went back to researching. He was sitting at the dining table with Castiel who was hunched over with his coat wrapped tightly around him. The angel looked up at Dean a brief moment before lowering his head again. His face was red with fever, and he shivered slightly, pulling his trench coat closer.

After taking up illegal residence in one of Oasis Plains’ many vacant houses, Sam had thought to buy medicine and a thermometer for Castiel. The angel was running a 204 degree fever, and he couldn’t keep any of the medicine down because he could “taste every overwhelming molecule of Tylenol.” His taste indicated he was still an angel, but the vomiting and fever were contradictory to that analysis.

“You holding up okay, Cas?” Dean asked as he sat at the table.

The angel shook his head. “I feel cold, even in this jacket, and my head is…I believe ‘throbbing’ is the correct term.”

Sam put a comforting hand on Castiel’s shoulder. “You should get some rest. There’s three bedrooms here. Pick one. Sleep more.”

“But I’ve slept so much already.” Castiel rubbed his eyes with a trembling hand. “I’m sorry you two have to see me like this. The angels are on missions too important for me to interrupt right now. The earliest I can be picked up is in three days.”

“You don’t have to apologize for anything, Cas.” Sam smiled reassuringly. “Just focus on getting better. We’ll take care of you in the meantime.”

“Thank you, Sam.” Castiel stood, swaying slightly. “Good night.”

“Night.”

Without looking away from the table, Dean mumbled, “Night.”

Castiel paused a moment, picking up the apathy in the older brother’s tone. “I’m sorry, Dean. I really am.”

Dean’s jaw clenched. “I thought you were going to bed, Cas.”

After another heartbeat of tense silence, Castiel walked away. Sam threw a bottle of ibuprofen at his brother’s head. “What the hell is wrong with you? Cas is sick.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Dean threw the bottle back at his brother, who caught it easily.

“I think that whatever happened between you two should have been resolved already. You can’t keep doing this, Dean. Cas needs you right now.”

Dean averted his eyes. “It’s not that simple.”

Sam shook his head, thoroughly disappointed with his brother. “It is that simple. If Cas dies—”

“Don’t you go there. He’s going to be fine.”

“It doesn’t look that way, Dean.”

A heavy silence fell on the room for a long minute. Finally, Sam sighed and said, “I thought you and Cas were friends.”

Dean ran a hand through his wet hair. “What do you want me to say?” He took a breath. “Shit. I don’t know what to do, Sammy.”

At that moment, Sam couldn’t find anything to say. The look on his brother’s face made his throat close up. He could see Dean’s despair and guilt and anger and fear—all mixed into one expression.

“I’m going to bed,” Dean mumbled and stood.

Sam waited for his brother to leave before reaching into his bag and pulling out an old tome of spells Bobby had given him a long time ago. He opened it and started reading.

#

New Orleans, Louisiana: Three days earlier…

Things weren’t quite right. Dean paced in the motel room, trying to figure out why he felt off. Sam had already gotten so sick of his brother’s fidgeting that he’d left to do unnecessary research on tengu at the local library. Dean didn’t care. He felt like there was something wrong, and it was driving him insane. He fiddled with the red pearl bracelet and wondered why it had suddenly stopped working. His stress was through the roof.

“Dean?”

He jumped and spun around. Castiel was by the door, concern on his face. “Where’s Sam?”

Dean’s chest constricted, and a hollowness appeared in his gut. “Sam went to the library. How long have you been here?”

“A while.” The angel looked Dean up and down. “Are you okay?”

“Fine.” Dean pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to get a hold of himself. “Why are you here, Cas?”

Castiel tilted his head curiously. “I was hoping you had figured out how to kill a tengu, but I can come back later.”

When Dean didn’t respond, the angel came closer. “Are you sure you’re okay, Dean? You seem…troubled.”

Dean looked at Castiel, and the hollowness grew. “I think there’s something wrong with me. I haven’t felt right since we talked with Sojobo yesterday.”

Castiel touched Dean’s forehead for a moment. “You’re not ill physically.”

Dean caught the angel’s hand before it dropped, unsure of why he had the impulse. He stared at the hand and tried to figure out his own thoughts.

Castiel bent his head to meet Dean’s eyes. “What is it?”

Dean grabbed the lapels of the angel’s trench coat. “Something is wrong with me, Cas. I look at you and…” He trailed off, afraid of where the thought led.

Castiel gripped Dean’s wrists tentatively, but didn’t push them away. “And?”

Reason vanished. Dean pulled Castiel closer, putting only an inch between their faces. “Stop me, Cas.”

The angel was too stunned to do anything but stay rigidly still. Dean shoved Castiel back into the wall. “Cas, please.”

Uncertainly, Castiel started pushing Dean away, but didn’t get far. Dean pinned the angel’s wrists to the wall, bringing them closer until their foreheads touched. “Fight me,” Dean rasped. “There’s something wrong with me.”

“What’s wrong with you?” Castiel asked carefully, as if wondering whether or not he could heal Dean. “What are you doing?”

Dean slowly lowered his head until their lips brushed. “I don’t know.” He closed his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

Castiel went rigid when Dean pressed their lips together. It was light, filled with restraint on both sides. Dean felt the hollowness filling, and his inhibitions disappeared completely. He pressed his body against Castiel’s and nipped the angel’s lower lip lightly. “Dean,” Castiel whispered against persistent lips. “You’re not okay.”

Dean already knew he was past the point of no return. He pushed against the wrists beneath his hands. “I’m sorry, Cas.” It took all his willpower not to kiss the angel again.

Without warning, Castiel kneed Dean in the gut and ran out of the room, leaving Dean on the floor with only his troubled thoughts. The eldest Winchester turned his back to the wall and held his face in his hands.

Castiel had taken the bracelet with him.


	4. Chapter 4

Oasis Plains, Oklahoma: Present day…

Dean awoke in the middle of the night when a chilling feeling shot through him, and he found himself tumbling out of bed, down the hall, and into Castiel’s bedroom door. He rubbed his aching head, which had collided with no less than two walls and a door. Sam came running up seconds later. “What happened? Why are you outside Cas’ room?”

“It felt like…I was being pulled here,” Dean muttered and stood, still rubbing his head. “Or dragged.”

In the darkness, Dean couldn’t see his brother’s face clearly, but he could have sworn Sam was smiling. “Really?” the younger brother said. “Well, I’ll leave you to it.” Sam started away, and Dean lurched, only to be pulled back into Castiel’s door by an invisible force.

“Sam, what did you do?” Dean demanded.

The younger brother kept walking. “Just a little incantation to make sure you and Cas can’t avoid each other. It’ll end when you two make up.”

“Damn you, Sam! Come back here, so I can kick your ass!”

“Oh, one more thing.” Sam’s head swiveled over his shoulder to look at his brother. “You’re bound to Cas, but he’s not bound to you. So where he goes, you go, not the other way around. You’re going to be staying here since Cas is too sick to leave.”

Dean lunged again, and he was forced back. “Are you insane? You can’t do this job alone.”

“I’ll call Jody to back me up. Just focus on making up with Cas.” Sam started down the hall again.

“Sam! Sam! I swear I’ll jam a knife so far up your—”

The door opened behind Dean, and he stumbled back into an unnaturally hot body. “Dean? Why are you shouting so much?” Castiel asked.

Dean righted himself and turned to face the angel who was blearily rubbing his eyes. Castiel had taken his trench coat, shirt, and pants off, leaving him in only his underwear. Dean looked anywhere else while he explained what Sam had done.

“Sorry, Dean,” Castiel mumbled after hearing the story. He walked back into his room and sat on the bed. “I don’t think I’m strong enough to break the incantation.”

Dean stepped in and closed the door behind him, observing the simple furnishings of the bedroom. He took a seat in an armchair off to the side. “I didn’t expect you to. I’m just pissed at Sam.”

Castiel slid under the bed covers and shivered. “Sorry, Dean.”

“Stop. Just stop apologizing. I get it. You’re sorry.”

The angel glanced at Dean. “But you still won’t forgive me.”

Dean took a breath. “Go to sleep, Cas. We can talk in the morning.”

“You’re going to sleep in the chair?”

“That’s the plan.”

Castiel’s eyes turned to the open space beside him. The bed was wide enough for Dean to lie down and still keep a relatively wide distance from Castiel. The angle turned onto his side, back to Dean, and mumbled, “Okay.”

Dean leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes, but he knew he wouldn’t sleep that night.

#

New Orleans, Louisiana: Two days earlier…

Dean dragged Moriko from The Sailor’s Dock into the side alley. “What the hell did that bracelet do to me?” he demanded. “I hurt a friend because of that thing.”

She jerked her arm from his hold. “I can’t control what people do.”

He glared. “Then what did you do?”

Her arms folded over her scantily clad chest. “We’re tengu. We deal with desire. The bracelet is essentially a desire-enhancer. You wanted to be less stressed. The bracelet enhanced the desire, so your body would act on it.” She narrowed her eyes. “If you hurt your friend, it’s because the desire was already there, and the bracelet brought it to the surface. That’s your issue, not mine.” She stalked off.

Dean stood alone, confused and afraid, for several minutes. His thoughts wouldn’t form into anything coherent. They whirled through his head like dust in a hurricane.

His phone rang. “Yeah?” he answered gruffly, pinching the bridge of his nose against an emerging headache.

“Get this,” said Sam. “The only way to kill a tengu is to stab it with an iron knife coated with mud made from scorched earth.”

“Uh-huh.”

Sam paused a moment. “You all right, Dean? Where are you?”

“Nowhere. I’ll see you back at the motel, Sammy.” Dean hung up before he could hear a response and rubbed his bare wrist with a sigh. His thoughts continued to rage, but they didn’t have to be quiet for him to ignore them. He straightened his back and walked out of the alley.


	5. Chapter 5

Oasis Plains, Oklahoma: Present day…

“Dean? Are you okay? Dean?”

With a jolt, Dean awoke and jumped to his feet, ready for any danger. He collided with something large and solid. Too late did he realize it was Castiel. His hand shot out, catching the angel’s waist, and they went down. Almost instinctively, Dean maneuvered himself under Castiel. The air rushed out of Dean when his back landed on the floor—and an angel landed on him.

“Son of a bitch,” he rasped and sucked in a painful breath.

Castiel scrambled off him. “Are you okay?”

“Peachy.” Dean rubbed his aching head and sat up. “You all right?”

“Eh…yes?”

“Are you asking me if you’re all right?”

“No?”

Dean sighed heavily and stood. “It’s too damn early for this.” He held out a hand, which Castiel took. When they were both standing, Dean rolled his stiff shoulders and glanced at the clock. It was barely six in the morning.

“Damn it, Cas. Why’d you wake me up at this ungodly hour?” Dean muttered.

Castiel’s brows knit together. “All time is—oh, you mean ‘outrageous.’” He shrugged. “You looked distressed. I thought you were having a nightmare.”

Dean could hardly recall a time when he wasn’t having a nightmare. This entire situation was a goddamn nightmare. “Well, I guess I’m up now.” He looked the angel up and down. “Mind putting some clothes on?”

“Why? I’m more comfortable without…” Castiel trailed off, expression darkening. “Okay.” He shuffled over to where his clothes were neatly folded atop a bureau by the bed.

“Wait,” Dean said, feeling like the ass he’d been being. “You don’t have to, if you don’t want to.”

Castiel took the clothes and started dressing. “I want to.”

Dean averted his eyes and let out a tired breath, silently cursing his little brother back to the Cage.

“Do you want breakfast?” Castiel asked.

Dean returned his attention to the angel who was pulling his shirt on. The lean muscles of Castiel’s chest flexed with his movements. Dean took a slow breath. “First thing’s first. How do you feel?”

“A little better.” Castiel buttoned his shirt and walked back to Dean, leaving the trench coat on the bureau. “I can handle walking downstairs, if that’s what you mean.”

Dean could see the flush of fever in the angel’s cheeks, but Castiel did look better than yesterday. “I just don’t want you getting worse.”

“I…see. Thank you.”

Thoroughly tired with himself, Dean ran a hand through his brown hair and sighed. “Do you feel nauseous still? Any aches or pains?”

Castiel shook his head. “A little dizziness, but that’s it.”

Without thinking about it, Dean placed his palm to the angel’s forehead. Castiel lowered his eyes, body stiffening. Dean took his hand back slowly. “Your, uh, fever seems better. We should use a thermometer, though…just to be sure.”

“I am 101 degrees.”

“Right. Of course you are.” Dean turned to the door and walked through. An invisible force tugged him back almost immediately. He glanced back at Castiel. “You mind? Bound to you, but not the other way around, remember?”

Castiel’s face turned bright red. “Oh…right.” He shuffled out of the bedroom, walking just a little unsteadily. Dean fell in step beside him. They made their way downstairs and into the kitchen where Sam was already showered and dressed. Dean lunged for his brother, only to be pulled back after a couple steps.

“Goddamn it,” he growled. “Cas, let me at him.”

“No.” Despite the fever, Castiel sounded strong. “You shouldn’t hurt your brother.”

Dean glanced back at the angel, who stared at him unwaveringly. He wanted to point out familial ties had never stopped Castiel from killing, but that was too low a blow.

“Shit.” Dean glared at his brother.

Sam sat at the dining table, sipping a cup of coffee while he scrolled through some website on his laptop. He didn’t look fazed in the slightest. “Morning, Dean. Sleep well?”

“What do you think, asshole?” Dean shot back. He could feel the pull back toward Castiel, and it pissed him off more.

Sam didn’t look up from his computer screen. “Uh-huh. Well, Jody’s gonna be here in about two hours, so I’m gonna go to the coffee shop in the next town and leave you to sort out your bullshit.” He closed his laptop, placed it in the bag on the table, and stood. Dean scowled when his brother chugged the remaining coffee.

“Oh, by the way,” Sam continued. “The furthest you can be from Cas is a meter, which is about three feet.”

“I know how much a meter is,” Dean grumbled.

Sam shrugged and slung his bag over his shoulder. “See you in a couple days.” He hedged his way around Dean, staying just out of his brother’s reach, and walked out. Dean let loose several curses when he heard the front door open and close.

Castiel moved from his spot by the stairs and started toward the kitchen, making Dean stumble closer when the angel ventured out of their allotted meter. “Sorry,” Castiel said as Dean righted himself.

“It’s fine.” Dean stayed closer to Castiel as they walked into the kitchen.

The room was an assembly of dark, wood cabinets, granite counter tops, and stainless steel appliances. It looked like something out of a suburban soccer mom magazine, which made Dean scowl. He told Castiel to sit on a countertop near the center of the room, so he had full run of the area. The angel obliged and pulled himself up onto a countertop. He had a sheen of sweat on his skin, and his face was flush from exertion. It worried Dean. He’d been entertaining the idea that it was his fault for Castiel’s state. Because of what happened in New Orleans.

“What are you going to cook?” Castiel asked when Dean looked through the fridge. The brothers had thought to buy groceries the night before, considering the nearest restaurant was in the next town.

Dean took out a tray of eggs, a package of basil, and a red pepper. “An omelet.” He rummaged through the cabinets for supplies.

Castiel didn’t ask any more questions while Dean went to work. That is, he didn’t ask anything until Dean had a hot pan in front of him. “Are we going to talk about New Orleans?”

Dean let his hand drop to low and burned it on the lip of the pan. He cursed and went over to the sink. As soon as the cold water ran over his hand, he sighed. “What’s to talk about, Cas?” he muttered resignedly. “You made it pretty damn clear where we stand.”

“I didn’t mean it that way. I was just… I panicked.”

Dean turned the water off and went back to cooking his omelet. “Yeah, well, I didn’t, and you threw it right back in my face.”

Silence fell over them like a suffocating blanket. After a minute, Dean got a plate from a cabinet and flopped his omelet onto it. When he grabbed a fork, Castiel stood from the counter and walked to the dining room. Dean followed close behind. They sat at the table across from each other.

“Why did you kiss me?” Castiel asked just as Dean took a bite of his omelet. Dean coughed out the piece of egg. Castiel’s timing was impeccable.

Dean dropped his fork on his plate with a sharp clatter and sighed heavily. He’d been doing a lot of sighing lately. “You know why, Cas.”

“Would you have kissed me without the bracelet?”

Dean didn’t know how to answer, so he decided on honesty. “Yes.”

Castiel didn’t reply. Dean ate his omelet, horribly aware of the angel’s stare. He didn’t know what to do anymore. Part of him knew he couldn’t be mad at Castiel forever. He was already letting go of his anger, and something else was replacing it. Something he’d been shying away from. It was dark and lonely and…painful.

Dean stood when he was done eating. “I need a shower. You mind?”

Castiel shook his head and stood. “I think I may need a shower as well.”

Dean’s brows rose. Castiel didn’t seem to know the implications of that small gesture and stared at Dean blankly. “This is going to be a long fucking day,” Dean muttered and walked with Castiel to the bathroom.

At least, there was a steam shower.


	6. Chapter 6

New Orleans, Louisiana: The day I keep alluding to (y’know, THAT day)…

They had their iron knives coated with mud made from scorched earth. Moriko’s dossiers had brought them to the first tengu, who lived in a rundown apartment near the coast. The only problem was that Castiel wasn’t with them. Sam kept giving his brother sidelong glances on the way up to the apartment complex’s third floor. Finally, Dean got sick of it.

“What!” he snapped.

Sam cocked a brow. “You’ve had a stick up your ass all day. Where’s Cas? What happened?”

“Nothing fucking happened.”

“Well, that’s not a suspicious answer.”

“Just shut up, man. I don’t want to talk about it. Can we just kill this bitch and go?”

Sam returned his eyes forward as they walked down the third floor hallway. “You totally fought with Cas.”

“Shut. The. Fuck. Up.”

Sam didn’t reply, and Dean was happy to keep the silence. They came to apartment 352, palmed the knives in their jackets, and knocked. A woman in a black nightgown opened the door. Her black hair was tied lazily in a bun, and a cigarette sat between bright red lips. She was almost as tall as Dean and impossibly thin.

She took the cigarette from her lips and said, “Can I help you, gentlemen?”

Dean smiled with deceptive amiability. “Are you Ms. Ren Hisakawa?”

She looked him over slowly before smiling wryly. “Yeah. You got a wish, honey?”

He whipped his knife out from his jacket and rammed it into her chest. A white, glowing liquid poured from her wound and mixed with the mud on the blade. The white liquid spilled from her eyes and the corners of her mouth as she fell to her knees. Dean pulled his knife out of her chest. She fell back in her apartment. Slowly, white lines appeared in the hardwood floor and up the walls, emerging from her back. They took the shape of feathered wings. It looked eerily like the wings of angels when their demise scorched the ground.

“What the hell?” Dean muttered, staring at the wings.

Sam shared in his brother’s shock. “If they were black, I would have thought she was an angel. Why are they white?”

“Hell if I know.”

The temperature suddenly dropped. Ice coated the floor and walls around the area where the dead tengu lay, hiding the white lines of her wings. The brothers were overcome with a feeling of dread and guilt.

“They were the first garden on Earth,” said a gravelly voice behind Dean.

He spun around. Castiel stood just two feet away, staring down at the tengu. “Somewhere in the world, a field of plants has just died,” he continued. “You’ve killed their spirit.”

Dean didn’t know what to say, so he just stared at Castiel wordlessly. Sam spoke up after a moment too long of silence. “Where were you, Cas?”

The angel looked away from the tengu and turned his attention to Dean. “An…issue came up. I had to attend to it.” He held out his hand. The red pearl bracelet sat on his palm. “Sorry I took it.”

Hesitantly, Dean took the bracelet. He didn’t feel any change in his desires. “You broke it?”

“I had the spell removed. It won’t harm you anymore.”

Dean’s brows furrowed. “Harm me? What do you mean ‘harm me’?”

Castiel glanced at Sam, who then threw his hands up and walked away, muttering, “Yeah, yeah. I know how it works.”

Dean didn’t get nervous easily, but as soon as his brother left him alone with Castiel, he felt something set his heart racing and stomach aflutter. “How was the bracelet harming me?” he asked.

“It made you kiss me,” Castiel answered bluntly. “Clearly, it was making you do things you didn’t want to do.”

Dean almost laughed at the irony. “What if you’re wrong?”

The angel looked confused. “What do you mean?”

“I dunno.” Dean shifted from one foot to the other nervously. “I’m sorry about jumping you, but what if it wasn’t…y’know…all the bracelet’s fault?”

“You’re joking, right? You wouldn’t kiss me voluntarily.”

Dean met the angel’s stare evenly. “I would.”

Castiel paused a moment, as if trying to process the information he’d just received. “What are you saying?”

Dean took a steadying breath. “I’m saying that I want us to be more than friends, and I wanted to know if you wanted the same, even after everything—especially after everything”

Castiel took a step back, looking perturbed. “But…what? No. I can’t. That would be…wrong. This is all wrong. It would be wrong and unpleasant and…very troublesome.”

A horrible, sharp pain shot through Dean’s chest, followed by a tightness that made breathing difficult. After he was sure his next heartbeat came, he said softly, “That’s one hell of a ‘no.’”

Castiel blinked. “You’re joking, right? This is one of your jokes I don’t get, isn’t it?”

Dean held up the bracelet. “I went to Moriko. She said the bracelet increases desires that are already there. Sorry I’m wrong and unpleasant and very troublesome.”

Castiel’s expression darkened. “I didn’t… I mean, I… It’s not like that.”

Dean shook his head. It was all he could do to keep from shutting down completely. “It’s fine. I get it. You’re not interested. And, shit—why would you be? I fucking attacked you. Don’t worry. It won’t happen again.”

Castiel’s mouth opened, but no sound came out. Dean couldn’t take it anymore. He turned and started down the hallway. Castiel caught his shoulder, but as soon as Dean looked at him, he took his hand back.

Dean kept walking.

#

Oasis Plains, Oklahoma: Present day…

Dean sat on a ledge in the steam shower, letting the clouds of water take some of the tension from his muscles. He was conscious of Castiel sitting just on the other side of the shower’s blurry, glass doors—the bathroom was more than a meter long—but the situation had made him resigned. There was nothing to be done but bear with it until Sam came back and discovered Dean and Castiel were like oil and water. At least, that’s what Dean told himself.

“You didn’t attack me,” Castiel said suddenly.

Dean rubbed shampoo into his damp hair. “What are you talking about, Cas?”

“The day we…uh…fought, you said you attacked me.”

Dean lowered his hands from his hair. “I was being sarcastic.”

“No, you weren’t. Not really.”

“How would you know?”

“I know you.”

Dean didn’t reply and pushed the red button on one side of the shower to shut off the steam function. He turned the faucet to a bearable level, letting the spray wash the soap from his hair. As soon as he opened the door, cold air came rushing in. He fumbled along the outside of the shower door for his towel, staying inside the shower and out of Castiel’s view. Something pushed the towel into Dean’s hand. He felt heat bloom in his face that wasn’t from the shower when he grabbed the towel and wrapped it around his waist.

Castiel stood just outside the shower. He stared firmly at the floor when Dean stepped out. “You left your towel by the sink,” the angel explained.

Dean tried not look too much at Castiel’s muscled form, wet and clad in only a towel. “Uh…thanks,” he mumbled and glanced at where they’d left their clothes on the counter. “Why aren’t you wearing your clothes?”

Castiel shrugged. “A towel’s comfortable.”

Dean regretted letting the angel have the first shower. “Just get dressed.”

When Castiel started to take his towel off, Dean turned around. “Not right now!” he hissed. “Son of a bitch, Cas. Really?” He heard something that sounded very much like a damp towel dropping to the floor. Fuck.

Dean tried to slow his breathing while he listened to the sound of fabric sliding over skin. Castiel was just being cruel. That had to be it. Payback.

Right?

“I am clothed,” the angel said after a minute.

Dean turned around slowly. Castiel was dressed, as he’d said. His eyes remained trained on the floor. “Your fresh clothes are upstairs, right?” he said.

Dean rubbed the back of his neck, the relaxation of the steam shower gone. “Yeah.”

Castiel turned and started for the door. Dean took his dirty clothes from the countertop and followed behind. They went up the stairs and turned down a hallway to Dean’s former room. He had a duffle bag of clothes lying haphazardly to the side of the bed. The sheets hung off the mattress from being violently tossed in the night.

Dean dropped his dirty clothes by his duffle bag and pulled out fresh clothes. When he turned and gave Cas an expectant look, the angel shuffled out of the room. Dean closed the door after him and changed on the spot, aware he couldn’t venture too far off into the room. When he pulled on his jeans, something bulged from his pocket. He reached inside it and pulled out the red pearl bracelet. There was a slip of paper wrapped around it, reading: ‘Look in the front pocket of your bag. Compliments of Sojobo.’ He stretched his foot out until he caught the edge of his bag and carefully pulled it closer.

There was an odd bump at the front of the bag he hadn’t noticed. He bent and reached into the pocket in question. What he pulled out made him freeze. “Pjur Man Premium Extreme Glide” labeled the canister of anal lube in his hand. He immediately shoved the lube back in the bag, along with the bracelet, and kicked it far away from him.

“Damn it, Moriko.” Dean pulled on his flannel shirt and cursed the tengus for making his life all kinds of hell. He was still buttoning the red, black, and white fabric when he opened the door. Castiel was leaning against the wall just outside. His face was flushed more than it had been all morning, and his eyes were closed.

“You all right, Cas?” Dean asked.

Castiel opened his eyes slightly. The blue of his irises seemed duller than normal, and didn’t focus correctly. “I’m…fine,” he mumbled and closed his eyes again. He slid along the wall.

“Shit,” Dean said when he caught the angel. Castiel felt like a furnace. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I’m…fine. I’m…okay.” Castiel’s voice was soft and breathless.

“Like hell you are.” Dean pulled the angel’s arm over his shoulder and virtually carried Castiel into the bedroom.

“I’m so…sorry. I’m sorry.”

Dean stumbled when Castiel’s legs gave out. They fell on the bed, Dean putting himself under the sickly angel instinctively. “Damn it, Cas.”

“Sorry…sorry.”

Dean was way too conscious of having Castiel on top of him. “Don’t worry about it. You’re sick.”

Castiel opened his eyes and stared at Dean with sad, blue eyes. He turned his face into Dean’s neck, lips grazing a warm neck. “I’m sorry…so sorry.” Castiel kept apologizing, repeating himself over and over again in the same breathless voice.

“Cas, it’s fine.”

“Don’t…hate me. Please…don’t hate…me.”

“I don’t hate you.”

Castiel’s eyes closed. “I love you.”

Dean’s heart skipped a beat. He wiggled onto the other side of the bed. Castiel looked to be asleep, his body relaxed and unmoving. Dean sat up and rested his face in his hand.

“Damn it, Cas.” He slid his hand down to his mouth to look at the sleeping angel’s face.

His own face was as red as Castiel’s.


	7. Chapter 7

New Orleans, Louisiana: The last day in the city…

Three dead tengu lay at Dean’s feet, their white wings etched into the grassy ground. The moonlight illuminated their preternatural forms. Dean’s shoulders were trembling with fatigue, and he breathed heavily.

Sam stood behind his brother in shock. “Dude, where did that come from?”

Dean wiped the sweat from his forehead with a sleeve. His hands, covered in white liquid, were shaking. “What are you talking about?”

Sam glanced at the tengu who were all riddled with stab wounds. “You went freakin’ nuts, even after they were dead. What the hell?”

“I don’t know.” Dean’s shoulders slumped. “I don’t fucking know.”

“Did something happen with Cas? You haven’t been right since—”

“Nothing happened. Drop it.”

“Dean—”

“Dude, fucking drop it.”

Sam was silent. Dean returned his white blood covered knife into his jacket and flipped out his phone. The answer came almost immediately after he’d dialed. “You get the last three?” Moriko asked through the receiver.

“Yeah,” Dean mumbled, glancing at the mutilated tengu. “They’re dead.”

“Where are you?”

Dean gave her the address for the park they were in, and she hung up. When he turned around, Castiel was standing right fucking there. Dean jumped. 

“Goddamn it, Cas! I thought you couldn’t zap anywhere.”

Castiel tilted his head. He looked more tired than usual, or maybe Dean was just imagining it because he was exhausted. “I walked here,” the angel said. “You just didn’t notice.”

Dean scowled. “Well, would you make noise like a normal person?”

“I’m not a normal person,” the angel pointed out.

“You can say that again,” muttered Sam.

Dean let out a tired breath. “Why are you here, Cas?”

“I was…checking on progress.” By his tone, Castiel didn’t sound at all like he was checking on progress, and Dean knew it.

“Checking on progress? Or checking on me?”

Castiel’s eyes lowered. “Maybe both.”

Dean grimaced. “Just leave it, Cas. You said what you wanted to.”

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“What other way could you have possibly meant it!”

The angel’s silence was all the answer Dean needed. “Just forget it. I know I plan to.”

Sam looked lost, eyes darting between his brother and Castiel. “Would someone please explain what’s going on?”

Dean and Castiel said simultaneously, “It’s nothing.”

Sam’s brows lowered in suspicion, but he didn’t press. Dean walked to the Impala across the park. Sam and Castiel followed wordlessly, neither one daring to say a word. Not when Dean looked like that.

#

Oasis Plains, Oklahoma: Present day…

Dean awoke to an angel snuggled against his side and a sense of contentedness. He didn’t know when he’d fallen asleep, but his watch said sometime around four hours ago. Castiel had had plenty of time to wiggle over to Dean’s side of the bed and cuddle up. He was still hot, cheeks flushed and sweat on his skin. When he shivered, an unexpected pang of worry shot through Dean. He pulled the covers up to Castiel’s neck and wrapped an arm around the angel’s waist.

They were both only in their underwear since Dean had undressed Castiel and himself for comfort purposes, but the direct skin contact didn’t feel sexual. Dean was just deeply concerned and offering his warmth, and Castiel took it, turning his face into Dean’s chest with a sigh.

This was trouble, and Dean knew it. He knew it would never be what he wanted. That this was as close as they’d get. But right then, all he cared about was the way Castiel fit against him and the heat they shared.

Then just after Dean dozed off, Castiel opened his eyes, curled into the arms surrounding him, and tried to hold back tears.


	8. Chapter 8

New Orleans, Louisiana: Final night in the city…

Moriko had the collar of Dean’s shirt between her slender, graceful fingers. She straddled his lap and gyrated, moving her hips slowly and deliberately. Dean stared at her breasts, barely contained in their green satin cups. He should have been turned on. But he wasn’t.

They were two floors above The Sailor’s Dock, far enough that the thumping music below was well muffled. The room was tastefully decorated in warm, almost fiery colors—a mixture of reds, gold, black, and white. Dean sat on the foot of a double bed. Its dark red sheets patterned with black and white flowers wrinkled and shifted with Moriko’s motions.

“You’re not into this,” she whispered against his ear, pressing her chest to his and moving her hips in circles. “I can’t make you forget him, you know.”

Dean gripped her waist and pulled her down, so she was sitting on him. “Not even if I wished for it?”

“Especially if you wished for it.” She pushed him onto his back, pinning his shoulder to the mattress. “I’m not what you desire, Dean, and I can’t be.”

“I think I’m too drunk to care.”

She sighed. “I know.”

“Sorry.”

She rolled off him. “It’s fine.”

He covered his eyes with a hand. “Really sorry.”

“Dean?”

He couldn’t stop the tears. Before he knew it, they were running down his temples and between his fingers. Moriko pulled him into her arms and rubbed his back. “Embrace this pain, Dean Winchester, for it is the sweetest you will ever have.”

Dean rested his head against the nape of Moriko’s neck and let the tears fall slowly from his tired eyes.

#

Oasis Plains, Oklahoma: Present day…

A tingling sensation ventured from the top of Dean’s hip, up his side, behind his shoulder, and stopped at his neck. He unconsciously leaned into the touch, a sigh escaping his throat. Something warm and heavy slid over his waist, and the sensation on his neck increased, becoming a pleasant pressure. Only when a firm body pressed against his back did he realize he was not dreaming.

With a start, he pulled away and swiveled his head over his shoulder. Castiel stared back with sad, blue eyes. His hand was still on Dean’s waist, and he made no move to take it back. “Cas, what were you doing?” Dean asked slowly, not really wanting to hear the answer.

Castiel’s hand swept down to Dean’s hip. “Getting your attention.”

The light from the bedroom window was creeping away, leaving a soft gold color through the room. Castiel didn’t seem to mind that the light was directly in his eyes, and admittedly, Dean didn’t either. He rarely saw the angel’s blue eyes in the light of sunset. Somehow, it seemed more important to stare at them than worry about the hand on his hip.

“Hell of a way to get my attention,” he mumbled.

Castiel’s expression darkened. There was still a sadness in it, but also something more intense. “I want to talk about what I said in New Orleans.”

Dean went rigid instantly. He took Castiel’s hand to remove it from his hip, but the angel reversed the grip and pulled Dean closer. The better fighter, Castiel had no problem taking both of Dean’s wrists in his and pinning them to the bed. Dean couldn’t even recall the moment when the angel got on top of his hips.

“Get off me!” Dean growled and struggled.

Castiel slammed his weight down on Dean’s wrists, gripping them painfully. “Listen!”

Dean stilled, glaring. “Why the hell should I? Every fucking thing that comes out of your mouth—” He stopped and turned his face away, looking at the setting sun through the window. He closed his eyes and took a shaky breath. “It hurts, Cas. Everything you say hurts. So I’m done. I don’t want to hear your explanations. I don’t…I don’t want to hear how badly I fucked up. Once was enough.”

“I keep telling you I didn’t mean it like that.”

Dean swallowed against the lump building in his throat. “Then how did you mean it, Cas? Why can’t you just say it?”

There was a pause, then Castiel rasped, “I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Cas, stop.”

Something wet fell on Dean’s temple. He opened his eyes and centered his head. Tears slid down Castiel’s cheeks. The angel released Dean’s wrists and sat back, hiding his eyes in his hands. “Sorry. I’m fine.”

Dean silently cursed himself and sat up, sliding out from underneath Castiel and resting his back against the headboard. “You’re not fine.” He pulled Castiel’s hands down. “Cas, do you know why you’re sick?”

“I…” Castiel trailed off. His tears stopped, and the moisture dried on his cheeks as he stared at Dean with what could only be described as utter despair. “I am torn,” he said after a long moment.

Dean’s brows furrowed. “Torn?”

Castiel ran a shaking hand through his hair. The brown waves had always seemed to be in a constant state of untidiness, which had worsened into true bedhead. “This grace…is not mine. It is incomplete. I feel like it could…slip away. And I find myself wishing…that I could be human again.”

Dean blinked. “What?”

“I am an angel, Dean, but you…make me want to be human.” He slowly breathed in and out. “I am torn because I cannot share your…existence.”

Dean understood what Castiel was saying, but he chose not to address the emotional implications just yet. “So you think you’re sick like a human because you don’t want to be an angel?”

Castiel shook his head. “It’s not that I don’t want to be an angel. It’s that I also want to be human. I am torn.” He let out a long sigh. “I believe the human equivalent of my illness is when a body rejects a transplant organ. I am—I think—unconsciously rejecting this grace by desiring humanity.”

“But that would kill you.”

“Yes.”

“Well…stop wanting to be human.”

Castiel had an unimpressed look. “If it were that easy, don’t you think I would have done it by now?”

Dean knew the answer to his next question, but he asked it anyway. “So why do you want to be human?”

Castiel’s eyes lowered. “Because of you.”

“Why me?”

“Don’t make me say it, Dean.”

“Because it’s wrong and unpleasant and very troublesome?”

Castiel’s hands balled into fists. “Yes.”

Dean could sense he was getting to the root of the issue. But he was scared. He’d had his heart broken once already. He could have it broken again, if he let himself hope.

But why had Castiel brought this up? Why now of all times? Why had he cried?

Dean cupped the angel’s cheek and rubbed the trail of drying tears with his thumb. Castiel hesitantly looked up at him, and Dean wondered just what was haunting the angel so much that he could have such a pained expression.

“Cas?” Dean said, his voice low and soft. “Please. Talk to me.”

Those impossibly blue eyes shut, and Castiel leaned into the hand on his cheek. “I want you.”

The words set Dean’s heart racing. “You weren’t saying that before.”

“I was afraid. I still am.” Castiel turned his lips into Dean’s palm. “You terrify me.” His eyes opened and met Dean’s gaze. “I was worried that when I fell asleep I wouldn’t wake up again.”

Without thinking, Dean pulled the angel into his arms. “That’s not going to happen. We’ll get through this.”

Castiel gradually relaxed and turned his face into Dean’s neck. They stayed like that for a long minute—silent, except for the sound of their breath.

“I want to be more than friends.”

Dean’s heart skipped a beat upon hearing the soft words. He turned his head toward Castiel. Their cheeks came together.

“Is it too late to say it?” Castiel gripped Dean’s shoulders in apprehension.

Dean took a deep breath. “No, it’s not too late, but…” He trailed off and ran a hand through the back of Castiel’s hair.

“But…?” Castiel pressed, sounding nervous.

“Why didn’t you just say that in the first place?”

“I was scared, almost as much as I am now. This is completely new to me.”

Dean understood the feeling. 

Castiel pulled away slightly to look into Dean’s eyes. He still looked despondent, but Dean could see something like hope, too.

“This is dangerous,” Castiel said.

Dean didn’t have to ask what was dangerous. Their lives were filled with dangers that could potentially end everything—including their lives. “When is it not dangerous?” Dean muttered.

Castiel bit his lip, looking uneasy.

“What are you hiding, Cas?” Dean continued. “Why won’t you tell me?”

When the angel didn’t answer, Dean sighed and moved to get up. Castiel pushed him back down by his shoulders. “Don’t leave.”

“Not like I could go very far.”

“I don’t mean that kind of leaving.”

Dean knew what he was talking about. He’d given Castiel the cold shoulder enough times to see how much it hurt the angel. That lonely distance he could put between them while still being within a meter of space. “Talk.”

Castiel dug his fingers into Dean’s shoulders and bowed his head. He was silent.

Dean tilted his head slightly to get a better look at the angel’s face. “Cas?”

Without warning, Castiel took Dean’s jaw in his hands and pressed their lips together. It was desperate, an act of panic under the weight of too many emotions. Castiel knew it. Dean knew it.

They pulled each other closer. Castiel pressed Dean back against the headboard, eliciting a creak from the wood. Dean could taste the fever on Castiel’s lips, the unnatural rush of heat under soft skin, but the angel was making it difficult to worry when he had a fist in Dean’s hair and a knee between his thighs. In fact, Dean was having trouble thinking about anything at the moment.

Castiel’s tongue swept between Dean’s lips. Their bare chests pressed together, Castiel’s hotter than Dean’s. The headboard groaned in protest when Castiel rose on his knees, making Dean have to bend his head back to keep their lips together. When Castiel swept his tongue out again, Dean met the touch with his own tongue, sliding it over Castiel’s deliberately in an effort to slow down their pace. A moan rumbled in Castiel’s chest.

And then his temperature spiked.

He pulled away with a gasp, hand over the center of his chest. Dean caught him before he fell over the side of the bed and pulled him to the other side. Castiel gripped the sheets, his entire body hunched and shaking. His breaths came in gasps. Dean touched the angel’s shoulders and leaned down.

“Cas, listen to me,” he said in a deceptively calm voice. “I don’t want you to be human. I never wanted that. And I sure as hell don’t want you to die. I won’t go through that again.”

Castiel turned his head slowly toward Dean. The blue of his eyes seemed duller than normal. “It’s not…that simple…Dean,” he said breathlessly

“It is that simple.” Dean held Castiel’s face in his hands. “Cas, I would never want for you to be anything different than who and what you are, and you shouldn’t either.”

A shudder rolled through Castiel, and he closed his eyes just as tears started in them. After a few deep breaths, he said, “I’m going to die, Dean.”

Dean’s breath seemed to freeze in his lungs. “Don’t you say that. This is not the end, Cas.”

“I’m not talking about now—though, it certainly feels like a possibility.” Castiel pulled away from Dean’s hands and hung his head. Tears dripped onto the sheets. “This grace can’t last forever as it is. A little more is lost every day. I’m practically bleeding it. And I don’t know if getting heaven back will help…if we get heaven back at all.”

Dean’s chest constricted. “Don’t, Cas. Don’t go down that path. We can figure this out. We always do.”

“And what if you can’t, Dean. What if this is futile?”

Dean slammed his hand into the headboard, creating a slap that resounded through the room. “Don’t say that! We can’t just give up now!”

Castiel sighed into the mattress, stretching out onto his side, so he faced Dean. He’d stopped shivering, but now, he looked exhausted. His eyes opened to stare up at Dean. “I’m not giving up, but…I’ve been thinking about this a lot—long before you kissed me under the bracelet’s influence. I’m dying, and even if I manage to restore my grace, Metatron could kill me. He could kill you, too. Every day feels like borrowed time to me…borrowed time with you.” He wiped his eyes, the tears stopping. “This is pathetic. Crying so much when I’m a soldier.”

Dean lay beside Castiel, unsure of what else to do. “Is it because you’re afraid of dying?”

“No. I may fear death, but I have been trained never to succumb to that fear.” Castiel turned onto his back and covered his eyes with a hand. “I’m afraid…that I’d never see you again. Heaven’s closed off. You won’t come back to life if you die. Neither will I. If I am afraid of death, it is because it would mean you’d…be gone.”

Dean wrapped an arm around Castiel’s waist and pulled him against his chest. “I’m not going anywhere, Cas. I promise.”

“You can’t promise that, Dean.”

“Well, I can promise I won’t go even a meter away from you.”

The corners of Castiel’s lips pulled up ever so slightly. “I guess that’s true.”

Dean rested his forehead against Castiel’s. “We can make this work, Cas. I know we can.”

Castiel turned onto his side again, facing Dean—though, his eyes were closed. “What I said in New Orleans, I need you to understand what I meant.”

Dean’s brows knit together. “What  did  you mean?”

Castiel took a deep, slow breath. “When I said it was wrong, I meant that this wasn’t supposed to happen, not like this. Not when the world is ending…again. I could be dead tomorrow, so could you. It’s unpleasant because that’s no way to live. And it’s troublesome because…I want this anyway.”

Dean didn’t know what to say to that, so he kissed Castiel’s forehead and held the angel tighter. “Maybe I can’t promise that we’ll be okay, but I can promise that we can make the most of what we have now. And I think that’s worth every second.”

Castiel sighed into Dean’s embrace. “I think so, too.”

They lay in silence for several minutes, sharing warmth. When Dean noticed that Castiel was starting to drift off, he asked, “Back in New Orleans, after our fight, you tried to stop me from leaving, but then you let me go. Why?”

Castiel’s eyes closed slowly, as if he couldn’t keep them open any longer. “Your face.”

“Something wrong with my face?”

“When you turned around, and looked at me, your face…you looked so hurt. I didn’t see anger or frustration or malice. Just pain—pain that I’d caused. So I let you go. I didn’t want to hurt you anymore.”

Dean didn’t reply, and Castiel didn’t speak again, falling into a quiet sleep. Dean pulled the sheets over them. He’d already slept more than enough today, but having Castiel in his arms was all the reason he needed to stay in bed. Besides, he could feel the angel’s temperature dropping.


	9. Chapter 9

New Orleans, Louisiana: Midnight of the last day in the city...

The tengus were set to leave at dawn. Moriko had assured Dean that she hadn’t known about his love for Castiel until Sojobo had told her about it the day before. He wasn’t sure he believed her, but a part of him knew that he would have acted on his repressed desires sooner or later. The bracelet had just moved things along.

When Dean walked out of The Sailor’s Dock, the city was alight and buzzing, as always. No stars were visible, and the moon was only a sliver in the sky. It might have been an especially black night if the city lights hadn’t chased away the majority of the darkness. All the flashing neon signs and young people laughing drunkenly seemed to fade into the background as Dean walked alone down the street, heading for the motel. Once upon a time, he could have been those young people, but he was too tired now. He’d seen too much, knew too much. And in the back of his mind, he envied those young people who had their whole lives ahead of them—a lifetime to spend as they wanted.

He sighed heavily and rubbed his neck. Those thoughts never led anywhere good. In the end, he had to face that he was a hunter forever and always. There was no other life for him. This was it.

“They told me you were the one killing tengus,” said a low, rumbling voice from the alley Dean had just passed, “but they never said you were friends with them.”

Dean palmed the gun holstered at his hip beneath his jacket. A tall man with skin dark as chocolate stepped out of the alley’s shadows.

“And who’s been talking about me?” Dean asked carefully, sizing the other man up.

The man blinked. His eyes turned black, and when he blinked again, they returned to brown. Dean’s hand crept from his gun to the demon blade in his belt. 

“Name’s Merrick,” said the demon. “Former lieutenant of Lilith’s, before your little brother killed her and jump-started the Apocalypse.”

“Fun times. Now, what the hell do you want?”

Merrick’s mouth contorted into a feral grin. “Nothing, but there’s some people in high places who would pay out the ass for that angel of yours.”

Dean’s grip on the knife tightened. “What angel?”

“The one who allegedly stole his juice from another angel. The one who caused the Fall. The one who can’t seem to stay away from you Winchesters. Ring any bells, Dean?”

“Maybe.” Dean was ready to gank this nosy demon, but there were still too many people around. “What do you want with him?”

Merrick’s grin widened. “Well, word has it there’s a decent bounty on his head, and Metatron doesn’t care who the bounty hunter is. Demons are out for the guy.”

“That include you?”

“Some of us are smart enough to see that whoever wins this war over heaven is going to be leading all the angels, which would make them one powerful son of a bitch. This Metatron guy seems tough, but you Winchesters are damn hard to kill, like cockroaches. I figure your guy has a better chance of winning, just by association, which is why I’m here. I want to make a deal. You spare all the demons under my command, and you get our help when you need it.”

Dean’s brows shot up. “How many demons we talking here?”

Merrick shrugged. “About fifty. Enough to make most angels look twice.”

Something about the deal rubbed Dean wrong. “And all this time I’m sparing your demons, you’re gonna keep doing demonic things?”

“Well, we  are demons, Dean.”

“Forget it. I’m not just gonna turn a blind eye while you guys hurt innocent people.”

Merrick had an unimpressed look. “Very well. Your loss.” He turned and skulked back into the shadows. 

Dean let go of the knife and pulled out his phone. After he dialed, there were three rings, then a sleepy voice grumbled, “Dean? What the hell? Where are you?”

“Sam, is Cas there with you?” Dean asked. “You should both hear this.”

#

Oasis Plains, Oklahoma: Present day...

Castiel was alone in bed when he awoke. The sun had set, and the stars were out. A lamp on the nightstand illuminated the room. Castiel sat up, pleasantly surprised that the movement took little effort. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed, thinking that Dean had gone to help his brother, but then he smelled food through the open door. Seconds later, Dean walked in with a plate of eggs and toast. He smiled when he saw the angel.

“How you feeling, Cas?” he asked and sat at the foot of the bed.

Castiel found himself smiling. “Good...surprisingly.” He glanced at the food in Dean’s hand. “I see Sam’s spell has been broken.”

Dean’s smile turned into a wry grin. “Must’ve been that kiss you gave me earlier.”

Castiel’s face reddened, and for once, it wasn’t from fever. “How long was I asleep?”

“About four hours.”

Castiel looked out the window. It must have been close to midnight now. “Don’t you want to help Sam right now?”

“Yeah, but I can’t really go anywhere until he comes back. I have no idea where he is since he won’t answer the phone, and I can’t go out looking for him because he took the car.” Dean nibbled on his toast. “It’s just you and me. Want a bite?”

Castiel looked at the eggs and shook his head. “Eating is no longer pleasurable. I do miss that aspect of being human.”

Dean frowned. “You don’t want to be human still, do you?”

“No. Not now.” Castiel rubbed the back of his neck, working out the tension in his muscles. “But where does that leave us?”

Dean’s brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know.” Castiel sighed heavily. “I want to make the most of the time we have, but what would that be like? I mean, we’re fighting the same war, but we’re on two different fronts. For all I know, this could be the last time we ever see each other.”

Dean set his plate on the nightstand and leaned forward, so he was hovering over the angel. “Do I look dead to you?”

Castiel was suddenly aware of Dean’s bare chest and their proximity. “No.”

“Then don’t worry about it. We have right now. That’s what matters.” Dean touched his forehead to the angel’s. “This matters.”

Castiel cupped Dean’s jaw in his hands. “It’ll never get easier, you know. Not the way we live.”

“Has it ever been easy? The only difference now is we’re being honest with each other.” Dean let out a tired breath. “I don’t plan on wasting any more time. I don’t think we can afford to.”

Castiel let one of his hands drift down Dean’s neck to a scarred and muscled shoulder, then to the tattoo over his left pectoral. “So what do we do now?”

A corner of Dean’s lips turned up. “What are you up for?”

Castiel traced Dean’s tattoo with a finger. “Could we continue what we were doing before I collapsed?”

“You sure you’re well enough?” Dean asked, concern knitting his brows together.

“I guess we’ll find out.” Castiel leaned forward until their lips connected. Dean didn’t respond at first, surprised by the angel’s abruptness, but after a moment, he relaxed into the kiss. Castiel gripped Dean’s shoulders as he sat straighter. His tongue slid between Dean’s lips, more out of curiosity than anything. The result was Dean pressing Castiel back into the headboard, hooking his tongue under the angel’s upper lip, and nipping lightly. The air seemed to vanish in Castiel’s lungs as a tingling sensation burst through him. He froze.

Dean pulled away. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

Castiel sucked in a breath and paused to see if he was about to keel over. When he didn’t, he took Dean’s jaw in his hands and kissed him again. Dean wasn’t sure how to respond to Castiel’s behavior, but he figured if there was a problem, the angel would let him know. He slowed his pace to analyze Castiel’s responses, moving his lips in lithe, deliberate motions. Uncertainly, Castiel slid his tongue across Dean’s bottom lip. That tingling sensation followed the touch, and Castiel slid his tongue further until it touched Dean’s. The sensation shot from his mouth to the rest of him. He froze again.

“Cas?” Dean said, pulling back to look into the angel’s eyes.

Castiel knew his temperature had risen, but it wasn’t from fever. He didn’t feel sick or tired. In fact, he felt pretty damn good. “This is just...strange,” he mumbled. “I’ve never experienced anything like this while being an angel, so I don’t know what to expect.”

“What about that reaper you slept with?”

Castiel shook his head. “I was human then. It just felt...different.”

“Did it feel different when you kissed me earlier?”

“Yes, but I was half-crazed with fever. It didn’t seem important then.”

Dean sat back, putting himself a decent distant from Castiel. “We should stop. You’re not—”

In one movement, Castiel pushed Dean back on the bed and straddled the man’s hips. “I don’t want to stop.” With one hand on Dean’s shoulder and the other hand pressing into the bed, Castiel hovered over Dean. “I want this, and I don’t want to waste any more time.” He ran his fingers down Dean’s chest. “Don’t you want to?”

Dean shivered when Castiel’s thumb smoothed over the top of his bare hip. “Of course, I want to, Cas, but I don’t want to push you when you’re sick.”

“I’m not sick.” Castiel slipped a finger under Dean’s waistband. “I’ve never felt better.”

Dean caught Castiel’s hand before the angel could venture any lower. “Okay, but let’s just take it slow.”

Castiel nodded and let his hand drift up to Dean’s collarbone, tracing the ridge with a finger. Dean pushed himself up until his lips connected with Castiel’s. They moved slowly until Castiel pushed Dean back down into the bed and swept his tongue between the man’s lips. The taste was different. It was as though his tongue could sense the life in every atom comprising Dean’s lips. They seemed to hum in resonance with the tattered soul holding them together. 

Castiel groaned low in his throat when Dean’s tongue met his. He could feel it—that soul, damaged and worn from battle, but strong and fierce nonetheless. Sensations flowed through his body, but he recognized it as a response to Dean. It was something primal, something deeper than lust. A resonance of two souls who weren’t meant to be apart.

Dean’s tongue was deliberate in its exploration of Castiel’s mouth, as if he wanted to map out every structure in detail. He could hear the blood rush in his ears and feel his heart pounding, but more than experiencing his own pleasure, he wanted Castiel to feel good. A hand threaded into the angel’s hair while the other slide down a scarred, muscled back.

Castiel pulled away abruptly, and Dean didn’t have any time to ask why before the angel nipped his neck. Castiel ran his tongue down to Dean’s collarbone and lightly nibbled on it, eliciting a soft gasp. When Castiel’s lips found a hardening nipple, Dean moaned louder than he should have for such minor foreplay.

Castiel looked up, meeting Dean’s stare. “Bad?” the angel asked.

Dean shook his head, taking a deep breath. “No, it’s...good.”

Curiously, Castiel ran his tongue in a slow circle around the sensitive flesh that had induced the moan. Dean’s breath caught, electricity shooting straight to his groin. Castiel took the hint and sucked lightly on Dean’s nipple, rolling the tip with his tongue. Dean tightened his grip on Castiel’s hair as a moan rumbled up from his throat. The angel’s eyes seemed to glow when a smile took his lips.

“Having fun?” Dean grumbled.

Gaining confidence, Castiel’s smile widened. “Aren’t you?” He lightly nipped Dean’s nipple, earning a gasp. Dean mumbled something unintelligible and rolled his hips. A low moan rumbled out of Castiel as their growing erections slid together through their underwear.

Dean took the angel’s pause to flip them over. He settled his lower body between Castiel’s legs and continued to move his hips in slow circles. Castiel arched his back, head tossed back into the bedsheets. Dean kissed the throat newly exposed to him before licking a trail down Castiel’s chest. He stopped at the angel’s navel to rub his thumb against the arch of Castiel’s boxers. A blue light started in Castiel’s eyes when he gasped in a pleasured surprise.

“Your eyes are glowing,” Dean said, unsure if that was a bad or good sign.

Castiel sucked in a breath. “It’s okay. I’ve got a handle on my grace.”

Dean slipped a finger under Castiel’s waistband. “Is it okay if I continue?”

Castiel rolled his hips in answer. Dean smiled and pulled the angel’s only article of clothing off. He planted a chaste kiss to Castiel’s inner thigh before sliding a finger down the angel’s hardening length. The strangled sound Castiel made in his throat motivated Dean to continue lightly stroking the angel’s erection.

“Dean,” Castiel rasped, hands clutching the bedsheets. 

“Do you want me to stop?” Dean asked and kissed the sensitive skin where leg met hip.

Castiel shook his head, and Dean got the sense that the angel was holding back. Curiously, Dean turned his head and swept his tongue across the base of Castiel’s erection. A moan escaped the angel, but he didn’t move, staying rigidly still. As if compelled, Dean wrapped his lips around Castiel’s head, sliding his tongue over the tip. When Castiel still didn’t move, he took him further into his mouth until he felt his gag reflex almost trigger. Finally, Castiel moved. He thrust his hips up and balled a hand in Dean’s hair.

Dean used Castiel’s movement to start a rhythm, moving his head up and down against the thrusts of Castiel’s hips. 

“Wait,” Castiel said on a choked breath. “I can’t—ah!” He could feel he was on the edge of something intense and forced his hips to stop. 

Dean paused and lifted his head, releasing Castiel. When he looked up, the angel was staring at him with eyes fully lit. “What’s wrong, Cas?”

“I don’t know.” Castiel tugged Dean’s arm until the man came up, so their gazes leveled. “I feel like I’m going to burst.”

Dean’s brows furrowed. “Do you feel bad?”

“On the contrary, I’ve never felt this good.” Castiel took a steadying breath and ran a hand through Dean’s hair. “What about you?”

Dean’s eyes swept over Castiel’s flushed form. “Pretty damn good.” He swept back hair matted with sweat from Castiel’s forehead. “We can stop here, if you don’t think you’re up for more.”

Castiel seriously considered stopping where they were. He could feel the grace in him boiling, as if it wanted out, but he didn’t feel feverish or ill or bad at all. More than anything, what held him back was the fear of what would happen if he lost his control, if he finally gave up his restraint. Dean was strong, but he wasn’t an angel. The difference in their power was astronomical.

“Cas?” Dean said when the angel didn’t speak.

Castiel took a breath. In truth, he had no idea what was going on in him, but his body knew. So he listened to what he was feeling, the basal instincts that told him more than his mind could deduce.

“No,” he said after another moment’s consideration. “Let’s keep going.”


	10. Chapter 10

New Orleans, Louisiana: The last ten minutes in the city...

When Dean came back to the motel room, only Sam was present. 

“Where’s Cas?” Dean asked, looking around the room, as if the angel would spontaneously appear.

Sam shrugged. “Haven't seen him all day. Where have you been?”

“Getting with a hot tengu stripper.” Dean sat on his bed with a heavy sigh.

Sam gave his brother an odd look. “No, you didn’t. You don’t have your ‘I just got laid’ face.”

Dean glared at his brother. “I don’t have an ‘I just got laid’ face.”

“Not right now, you don’t. What were you really doing?”

Crying like a baby in the arms of a spirit of nature. “I was at a strip club. What do you think I was doing?”

Sam could tell his brother wasn’t going to explain further and shook his head. “Whatever, man. I’m going back to sleep.”

Dean cocked a brow. “A little early for you to be turning in.”

Sam shrugged. “What else am I going to do? Cas has been missing all day, and you’ve been...sulking.”

Dean scowled. “I am not sulking.” He stood and headed for the bathroom.

“You ever going to make up with Cas?”

Dean stopped outside the bathroom door. He wouldn’t look at his brother. “I don’t know, Sammy.”

Sam’s phone rang before he could reply. He answered and put it on speaker phone with a heavy sigh. “What the hell do you want, Crowley?”

“I already have hell, thank you,” said the King of Hell in his gravelly voice accented with an English tongue.

Dean sat next to Sam on the bed. “Cut the crap, Crowley. What do you want?”

“Calm down, squirrel. I just have a bit of news that I thought might interest you.”

Sam and Dean exchanged a glance. “What news?” asked Sam.

“You boys remember Oasis Plains, don’t you?”

“Yeah, the housing development in Oklahoma. It was taken down.”

Crowley chuckled. “Guess again, moose. That housing development has been built up again, and the former developer is having some trouble taking it down. Native American curses are deadly and hard to get rid of apparently.”

Dean’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “How would you know about that?”

“It was all written in the Winchester Gospel. Really, these books are quite incredible.”

Sam groaned. “Why are you telling us this?”

“Because the former developer is throwing around your names and attracting some unwanted attention from both demons and angels. I was interested, so I’m keeping the man safe. Don’t know for how long, though. A group of demons who say they’re being led by Merrick are particularly troublesome. He was a lieutenant of Lilith’s, if I recall correctly.”

Dean cursed. “That bastard must have been watching us for a long time.”

Sam looked worried. “So he was testing you just now?”

“So you’ve met this elusive Merrick,” Crowley said. “Did you make another enemy, boys?”

Dean sighed and rubbed his eyes tiredly. “Where’s the developer?”

“I’ll text you his number. You can bring along your angelic boy toy.”

Dean snatched Sam’s phone and hung up. “What the hell, Dean!” Sam burst when his brother tossed the phone over the bed. 

Dean stood and shoved a hand through his hair. “Call the developer. I’m going to look at the maps to Oklahoma.”

Sam picked up his phone on the other end of the bed while his brother went outside to get the maps from the car. But instead of calling the developer, he called someone else.

#

Oasis Plains, Oklahoma: Present Day...

Dean wasn’t sure what was going on with Castiel, but with the way the angel was moaning out his name, he wasn’t sure he wanted to stop and ask about it. He had two fingers inside Castiel, rubbing against the small protrusion of his prostate through layers of sensitive tissue. Dean had offered to bottom, considering Castiel was inexperienced, but the angel had insisted otherwise. So now, Dean found himself between the angel’s legs with his finger coated in a liberal application of silicone-based lube from the bottle Moriko had snuck into his bag.

Castiel writhed when Dean increased the pressure slightly, back arching off the bed. “Dean,” he moaned breathlessly, eyes glowing in the dim light. Dean could see that Castiel was enjoying himself, but there was still something about the way the angel’s muscles were tensed almost to the point of rigidity that made Dean uneasy.

Dean withdrew his fingers. “Cas, what’s wrong? You’re really tense.”

Castiel sucked in a slow breath. “Can’t relax.”

“Why? Am I doing something wrong?”

Castiel shook his head. “Can’t relax with you.”

Dean grimaced and plunged his fingers into Castiel again. He rubbed ruthlessly against the angel’s prostate while stroking Castiel’s cock. A strangled sound escaped Castiel’s throat.

“Why?” Dean demanded again. “Why can’t you relax with me?”

“Dean, don’t,” Castiel rasped and closed his eyes, hiding the glow of his irises. “Can’t...lose contr—Dean!”

Dean increased the pressure on Castiel’s prostate. The angel’s hands balled into fists, bunching the sheets in his grip. 

“Why?” Dean paused his efforts. “Is this unpleasant and wrong and very troublesome?” He moved one finger slowly.

Castiel shot up, and before Dean could so much as blink, he found himself on his back with an angel atop him. “Cas, what—?” Dean started before Castiel gripped his cock and slid down on it. All the air left Dean’s lungs as tight heat enveloped him. He groped on one side of the bed for lube, but Castiel was already moving.

“Wait, Cas,” Dean mumbled breathlessly. His fingers fumbled until they found the lube, but before he could do anything with it, the angel pinned his wrists to the bed and pumped his hips faster. Helplessly, Dean’s head slammed back as his hips started in a counter-rhythm. He felt Castiel relaxing internally with each thrust. The angel’s muscles contracted and tensed with their movements. 

Dean felt the beginning of orgasm curl at the base of his spine and strained against Castiel’s grip on his wrists. “Cas,” he moaned, head tossing back.

The angel suddenly stopped. He sat back, becoming still as a statue. His eyes were alight, illuminating most of the room, and the shadows of tattered wings shown on the wall behind him.

Dean sat up, holding Castiel’s face in his hands. “Cas, what’s wrong? Why do you keep doing this?”

The angel’s breath came in shaky huffs. “I don’t want to hurt you. I feel like I’m losing control of my power the more we do.”

“Haven’t angels had sex with humans before?”

“Yes.”

“Did they die?”

“No.”

“Then what are you worried about?” Dean kissed Castiel, taking it slow until he felt the angel relax. “Let go. You won’t hurt me. I trust you.”

Castiel let Dean kiss him longer and deeper, falling into the sensation. They lay back on the bed with Dean on top. He made sure to properly apply lube to Castiel and himself before positioning them. When he slid into the angel, there was almost no resistance. Castiel was letting Dean take over, and Dean knew it was more out of trust than wanting to hand over control. In truth, Dean had no idea what could happen, but this felt too right to stop.

They began to move again. Dean was careful to go slow at first, finding the best angle and making sure Castiel was comfortable, but he soon quickened his pace. The light in Castiel’s eyes increased in intensity when Dean palmed the angel’s cock with his thrusts.

Castiel could feel his grace burning again, threatening to burst, and the deeper Dean went, the more his grace burned. “Dean,” he said on a choked groan.

“It’s okay,” Dean whispered against the angel’s ear. “I trust you.”

Castiel’s nails dug into Dean’s back as waves of pleasure rushed through him. Dean pushed against that sensitive gland with every thrust, and his hand on Castiel’s cock was more than the angel could handle. A long string of Enochian tumbled from Castiel’s lips, as if English had vanished from his knowledge. He arched off the bed, moans mixing into his foreign words.

Light burst through the room as his pleasure crested. The orgasm seemed to sizzle in his blood, setting his grace ablaze and his control with it. Dean felt the echoes of power roll through him like an electric current. His own orgasm burst through him, seeming to flow on the electric currents until his limbs shook, and it felt as if heart would pound out of his chest.

When the light dimmed and Dean regained some feeling in his body, he rolled off Castiel and pushed back the angel’s hair. The light was slowly fading from the blue irises of Castiel’s eyes, and a pleasant tingling lingered in Dean’s body.

“You okay?” Dean asked breathlessly. 

Castiel looked at Dean as the last of the light faded. “Did I hurt you?”

Dean smiled. “Other than the scratches on my back, not at all. In fact, that was one hell of an orgasm. How’d you do that?”

“I...didn’t do anything.” Castiel looked down at the come on his stomach and in the sheets.

Dean lowered his eyes. “I would clean up, but I’m having trouble feeling my legs at the moment.”

Castiel looked alarmed. “I did hurt you! I need to get you to a hospital!”

Before the angel could get up, Dean pinned his shoulder down to the bed. “I’m fine, Cas. Injury isn’t why my legs feel funny.”

“Then why—oh.” Understanding dawned on Castiel’s face. “I didn’t think that actually happened.”

“Doesn’t usually, but I’m betting most people don’t sleep with angels.” Dean turned his face into Castiel’s shoulder. “How do you feel?”

“Drained...in a good way. Perhaps, ‘content’ is the correct term.” Castiel turned to face Dean, wrapping an arm around the man to bring them closer together. “I really didn’t hurt you?”

Dean kissed the nape of Castiel’s neck before nuzzling it. “No. Just give me a moment to catch my breath, and then we can spend some time in the steam shower.”

Castiel smiled in amusement. “I think you just want another excuse to use the steam shower.”

“Shh. This is terrible pillow talk.” Dean smoothed Castiel’s sweat-matted hair back. “You didn’t hurt me, Cas. You were  amazing .”

Castiel turned his lips into Dean’s palm and kissed the calloused skin. “I think the amazing one is you.”

Dean let Castiel take his hand and lower it, so they were held together at their waists. They lay in silence, taking in each other’s warmth. When Dean felt relatively normal again, he thought to ask, “What did you say in Enochian?”

Castiel touched their foreheads together, rubbing his thumb lightly over the back of Dean’s hand. “It’s a sort of prayer that angels say when they’re very thankful. It translates loosely as ‘Grant me worthiness for the gift I have been given and the strength I need to keep it.’”

Dean didn’t know what to say, so he simply kissed Castiel sweetly and whispered, “I love you.”

Castiel cupped Dean’s cheek, smile brighter than the light he’d shone just minutes ago. “I love you.”


	11. Chapter 11

Somewhere outside of Oasis Plains...

Sam watched Merrick circle around the concrete room. He and Jody were sitting back to back in metal chairs, hands bound together behind them. They were in the basement of an abandoned warehouse—because that seemed to be what happened.

“Sam, if we die,” Jody said, “I’m going to kill you.”

Sam glanced back at Jody before returning his attention to Merrick. “We don’t know where the old developer is. Ask Crowley.”

Merrick sneered. “Crowley’s got his head so far up your ass, he can’t see anything but your shit.”

“Wow, that’s descriptive,” Jody muttered.

“What do you want with the developer?” Sam asked Merrick.

The demon cocked a brow. “You really don’t know?”

“Why should we?”

“Because he’s being possessed by Gadreel.”

Sam and Jody went rigid. “Sam, is he talking about who I think he’s talking about?” asked Jody.

“I think he is.” Sam narrowed his eyes at Merrick. “Where’d you hear this?”

“Some angels we ran into looking for the bastard. Apparently, Gadreel snagged himself a tengu coat, so demons wouldn’t be able to see his true form. Hides his soul energy or something.”

“That’s impossible. We killed all the tengu at risk.”

Merrick shrugged. “Guess not. Otherwise Crowley would have noticed there was an angel in the developer, wouldn’t he?”

Sam wasn’t so sure about that fact. Crowley had a habit of lying. “Maybe. Maybe not. Why should I believe a word you say?”

A corner of Merrick’s lips turned up in a contemptuous smirk. “Because you’re here. You were lured here, just as I was. I guess the thing to ask yourself is who would want the two of us in one spot?”

Sam looked back at Jody who simply stared at him and shrugged. It made sense, but there was one last question Sam hadn’t asked yet. He turned back to Merrick. “Why would Gadreel want you?”

#

Oasis Plains...

Dean paced around the dining room, trying to figure out what to do. It was already past three in the morning, and Sam hadn’t returned, nor was he answering his phone. Jody wasn’t answering her phone either, for that matter. A perfectly logical explanation was that they had a lead, and they were staying in town to be closer to the action. But then why weren’t they answering their phones? Were they out of battery? Did they lose them? Were they broken? No. Nothing so reasonably normal happened to the Winchester brothers or their friends.

Castiel walked out from the shower, towel hanging loosely around his hips, and damned if Dean didn’t take a moment to appreciate the view, even if he was worried out of his mind about his brother. “Sam still hasn’t called?” the angel asked, running a hand through his wet hair.

Dean shook his head, glancing at his silent phone on the dining table. “I think he’s in trouble, but there’s no way I can get to him.”

“I can take you into town, and we can go from there.”

Dean shook his head. “We’re not using any more of your grace. You’re walking on thin ice already.”

“But Sam—”

“Can handle himself.”

Castiel let out a tired breath and walked up to Dean to put a comforting hand on the man’s shoulder. They didn’t say anything, but such a simple act made Dean’s shoulders relax and his stomach unwind. 

He sighed heavily. “Thanks, Cas.” But Castiel seemed more interested with Dean’s shoulder, rubbing a specific spot on the edge of his collarbone with a doctor-like intensity. “Uh...something wrong?”

Castiel’s brows had knit together. With narrowed eyes, he said, “I could have sworn you had a bruise right here.”

Dean glanced at his shoulder. It looked perfectly healthy. He turned his eyes down his front. He should have had bruises from the tengu fights, but he couldn’t see any now. “Maybe you healed me with your grace,” he suggested. “You were pretty glowy back there.”

Castiel could vaguely recall releasing a small amount of grace at the moment of orgasm, but he didn’t think it was enough to heal  all of Dean’s wounds from the past week. That was the only explanation that seemed plausible, however, so he had no choice but to agree with it. “I guess so,” he mumbled, standing back to examine the rest of Dean who wore only jeans. Dean fidgeted under the scrutiny, but didn’t complain. 

A knock came at the front door, interrupting the moment and putting both Dean and Castiel on alert. No one was supposed to know they were here. Dean took a knife strapped under the table and approached the door cautiously. Castiel stood back, tensed and ready for anything. Dean opened the door with the knife behind his back, and Jody came stumbling in. Blood flowed freely from a wound on her head. Cuts covered her body, leaving her clothes tattered and revealing bruises over her skin. 

“Cas!” Dean called out, catching Jody before she could fall. Castiel took her face in his hands. Her wounds disappeared in an instant, but she still seemed on the verge of losing consciousness.

“Jody?” Dean cradled her. “What happened? Where’s Sam?”

She looked up at him with unfocused eyes. “Ga...Gadreel.” Her body fell limp, her grasp on consciousness finally slipping.

Dean and Castiel looked at each other, the beginnings of panic in their eyes, as they realized Sam wouldn’t be coming back.


	12. Chapter 12

An unoriginally ominous warehouse...

Sam stared at the decaying ceiling of the warehouse as he lay on the moldy floor. He figured a good number of his bones were broken, seeing as how he couldn’t move any of his limbs without adding to the intense pain overwhelming his body. So he lay quietly, his only movement the rise and fall of his chest—painful as it was. Drops fell onto his shoulder from the water-damaged beam above. The rhythmic patter of rain offered some comfort.

“I will break you and heal you over and over—as many times as I want,” said a stiff voice to Sam’s right. “So talk.”

Sam turned his eyes to the unimpressive, old form of the developer he’d met almost ten years ago. The developer wasn’t who spoke, however. Gadreel was. “Go...to hell,” Sam grunted through his teeth.

Gadreel let out a slow breath and shook his head. “I don’t want to have to keep doing this, Sam, but I will if I have to.” He knelt down to Sam’s side and placed his fingers against the Winchester’s bloody forehead. In an instant, the pain left Sam’s body as the familiar warmth of angel grace healed his injuries. Gadreel stood and slammed his foot down on Sam’s right knee. It gave with a sickening snap. Sam screamed, his voice bouncing uselessly off the walls of the derelict warehouse. When Gadreel broke the other knee, Sam felt his throat constrict, and his scream died. How many times had they gone through this torture? Six? Seven? Sam couldn’t remember.

“Where are the tengu?” Gadreel asked again.

“I don’t know.”

Gadreel slammed his foot down on Sam’s thigh. The femur cracked, sending another burst of pain through Sam. He felt his stomach clench, but nothing came up. Everything he could have thrown up had been already. 

“Where are the tengu?” Gadreel demanded.

Sam took several breaths before he managed to say, “I don’t know.”

As Gadreel’s foot came down again, Sam closed his eyes and listened to the water drops fall from the ceiling.

#

Oasis Plains...

Dean had the Impala loaded up within five minutes. Assumedly, Jody had remained conscious enough to drive it back, but she was now sleeping in a bedroom upstairs with Castiel’s assurance that she would be fine. The angel sat in the passenger’s seat of the car, a hard look on his face. 

“You should stay here and watch Jody, Cas,” Dean insisted as he started up the car.

“She’ll be fine on her own,” Castiel grumbled. “I left her a note.”

“You’re not exactly in the best shape, though.”

“I’m well enough.” Castiel glanced at Dean. “If Gadreel is here, Sam is in great danger.”

Dean had a somber look as he peeled out of the driveway. “Yeah, I know.”

Castiel didn’t know what comfort he could offer Dean, so he remained silent as they sped down the street.

#

A boring, plain office in a nondescript section of a nondescript town...

Crowley didn’t generally enjoy helping the Winchesters unless he got something out of it. In this particular instance, he knew that his investment in Dean—what with the Mark of Cain and Abbadon hanging over his head—required he take action. He sat in an office chair behind a blood-spattered desk and glowered at Merrick’s battered form. “Just to be clear,” Crowley said, “you captured Moose and his lovely companion, then lost the bigger one because at the first sign of danger, you decided to run off with your tail between your legs?”

Merrick narrowed his eyes at the demon. “Gadreel is Metatron’s second in command. I wasn’t about to die for a Winchester.”

“No, you thought you shouldn’t die for one of two men who probably know where the tengu are going.”

Merrick grimaced but didn’t speak. Crowley let out a tired sigh and stood. He walked around the bloody tangle of limbs on the floor that used to be the office owner. “Gadreel was after you because he thought you knew where the tengu were going, correct?”

Merrick nodded tersely.

“But you do not, in fact, have any idea where the tengu are?”

“No.”

Crowley nodded absently and walked up to Merrick. “Do you know what I do with useless things, Merrick?” In one swift movement, Crowley pulled the angel blade from his belt and plunged it into the lesser demon’s stomach. Flickering, sickly, golden light erupted from within Merrick before he dropped to the floor. 

Crowley glanced down at his suit, which had a small stain of blood at the base of its jacket. “Bollocks.”


	13. Chapter 13

Outside that unoriginally ominous warehouse...

When he pulled up to the massive warehouse, Dean saw Crowley was standing outside. The demon didn’t seem concerned by the rain, and Dean noticed that the drops of water seemed to go out of their way to avoid Crowley, as if repelled by his very existence. The warehouse was a mix of rusting metal sheeting and cracked plaster, rising into the dark storm clouds overhead. Parts of the roof had collapsed, and a pungent, musty smell billowed off it with every icy breeze. 

Dean and Castiel stepped out of the car, angel blades in their hands. Crowley had called them here, saying that Merrick had taken Sam and Jody to the warehouse. “So you brought your boyfriend,” Crowley said, looking at Dean. “Your moose is inside. He’s been screaming for the past twenty minutes.”

Dean’s blood ran cold, and it had nothing to do with the rain soaking through him. He sprinted through a broken section of the warehouse wall. A sickening crunch preceded a pained cry. Dean rounded a pile of moldy wood to see his brother lying on the floor with Gadreel standing on Sam’s thigh. His leg was bent at so many wrong angles that Dean felt sick just looking at it. Rage burned through him. Distantly, he heard Castiel’s voice calling him, but whatever the angel had said was lost to Dean’s blind fury as he charged.

Gadreel turned in time to block Dean’s blade with his own. Dean pressed forward, surprise and ruthlessness on his side. The force of his momentum threw Gadreel off balance. The angel staggered enough for Dean to break through his defenses. The tip of Dean’s angel blade pressed against Gadreel’s throat. “Dean, wait!” Castiel shouted.

Dean paused, but kept his eyes on Gadreel’s. Even in the old developer’s skin, he had the same expressions and mannerisms of the angel Dean had first met. In his peripheral vision, Dean watched Castiel kneel beside Sam. The soft glow of grace illuminated some of the warehouse as Castiel healed Sam. “We need to know how he got a tengu coat,” Castiel said breathlessly. He hunched over, breathing heavily. Dean had to resist going to the angel.

“Talk,” Dean growled, staring directly into Gadreel’s eyes.

The angel glared back. “The tengu came to me. She offered me her coat in exchange for a red pearl.”

Dean narrowed his eyes. “What was her name?”

“Moriko.”

“Why would she do this?” Castiel asked. He swept Sam’s damp hair back from his forehead, a concerned look on his face. Sam’s eyes were closed, but the steady rise and fall of his chest reassured Dean that his brother was alive.

“Moriko said she wanted the war to end,” Gadreel said carefully. “The war has destroyed tengu homes, and she could see Metatron’s was the strongest side. She said she would distract you, then give me the names of all the tengu I could use. But she lied. She left with the tengu and set Merrick after you.”

“She was covering her tracks,” Castiel concluded, an expression of harsh realization on his face. “She didn’t want anyone finding out where the tengu were, so she set us all against one another.”

“I’m beginning to see that,” Gadreel muttered, glancing down at the blade against his throat.

Dean thought of the lube Moriko had left in his bag. The realization that she’d planned all this out in order to distract him and Castiel disconcerted him. He didn’t like being used, especially when it involved Sam and Castiel. “The tengu are long gone,” he said. “So take off Moriko’s coat.”

Slowly, Gadreel lifted his hand to his head. His fingers caught on an invisible cover, sending ripples of white light over his body that resembled the folds of fabric. As he lowered his hand, the white light gained form until it became a cloak of bright, white feathers. It fell to the floor around Gadreel’s feet. 

Castiel squinted at Gadreel. “You’re burning that developer out,” he said. “He’s not a vessel.”

“I had to use his body, or the Winchesters wouldn’t have come.”

“You don’t have to do anything.” Castiel stood, anger in his eyes. “This is wrong, and you know it.”

“I know my purpose, brother.”

“And how many innocent people have to die for your purpose? Our father made us to be protectors, not murders.”

Gadreel didn’t reply, but the conviction had gone from his eyes. Dean wanted so badly to kill the angel right then and there, even knowing he would kill the developer as well. Anger blazed in him like a wildfire, targeted toward the angel who’d tortured his brother. Just before he could plunge the angel blade into Gadreel’s throat, Castiel collapsed. He fell to all fours, shaking and breathing heavily. Dean looked at Castiel, anger at odds with his concern. 

Gadreel pushed the angel blade aside, cutting a small line across Dean’s cheek as he did so, and jumped back before Dean could retaliate. In another instant, Gadreel disappeared with the soft beating of wings. Dean cursed and knelt beside Castiel. “Cas, you okay?”

The angel nodded. Sweat beaded down his face and neck. Every breath he drew sent a tremor through his body. The gaze he fixed on Dean was unfocused and bleary. “I just need to rest,” he mumbled. “Jody’s and Sam’s wounds were extensive.”

“What bloody good are you lot?” said a gravelly voice across the warehouse. Crowley grimaced at Dean. “Did you find out where the tengu are going?”

“No,” Dean grumbled before turning back to Castiel. “Can you walk?” The gentleness in his own voice surprised him.

Castiel took a deep breath. “I think so.”

Dean nodded and turned to Sam. “Sammy, you awake?”

Sam opened his eyes weakly. “Took you long enough,” he mumbled.

A slight smile spread Dean’s lips. “I can’t carry you. Do you think you can stand?”

“I guess we’ll find out.” Sam sat up slowly. Dean helped him, taking as much of his brother’s weight as he could until they were both standing. Sam leaned heavily on his brother, but Dean took his weight. Castiel trailed behind them slowly as they walked out of the warehouse. Crowley seemed utterly disinterested by the trio and vanished as soon as he realized they wouldn’t be useful again for some time.

It was tedious, tiring work getting Sam into the backseat where he could lie down with Castiel watching over him. Dean started for Oasis Plains as soon as Castiel assured him that Sam would be fine with some rest. 

“I’m sorry, Dean,” Castiel mumbled halfway back to the house.

Dean glanced back at the angel in his rearview mirror. “What for?”

Castiel didn’t answer. He slumped into his seat and fell to the floor of the car. Dean floored the accelerator.


	14. Chapter 14

Oasis Plains...

Dean sat at the dining table with a cup of coffee and his laptop. Jody had been awake when he’d returned to the house. She’d helped him haul Sam and Castiel up to their respective bedrooms. Dean trusted that Castiel’s judgment that Sam would be okay, but he wasn’t sure if Castiel himself would recover. The angel had a history of pushing himself to the verge of death. He was unconscious now, and all Dean could think about was how weak Castiel’s pulse had been beneath his fingers and the shallow breaths the angel had drawn as Dean had carried him into the house.

“What are you looking at?” Jody asked as she walked into the dining room. 

Dean looked up from his laptop to watch her take a seat opposite him at the table. “I’m researching angel grace.”

Her face fell. “Cas is strong. I’m sure he’ll pull through.”

Dean didn’t reply. Just thinking that Castiel might not survive filled him with dread. Jody sighed after a moment of silence. “Sam called me, you know, when you guys were in New Orleans.”

Dean’s brows furrowed. “Why?”

“He said he might need my help for a hunt in Oklahoma because you and Cas would be out of commission. Sure enough, he called me again the next day to ask for my help.”

Dean thought of the binding spell Sam had placed on him and Castiel. How long had his brother been planning that? “Sounds like something he would do,” Dean muttered.

Jody gave him a suspicious look. “Was there a reason why you and Cas were unavailable for this escapade?”

“Cas was sick. He still is. Sam made me look after him.”

“I can’t imagine Sam making you do anything.”

“Maybe not in conventional ways.” Dean ran a hand through his damp hair. It hadn’t dried yet from his time in the rain, and beads of water trickled down from his hairline every so often.

Jody stared at Dean a long moment before shaking her head and standing. “I’m going to bed. Don’t stay up too late.”

He grunted in reply. Jody walked away, leaving Dean to pore over angel articles.

#

Keys clacking. Aroma of coffee. Quiet breathing. 

Dean opened his eyes and blinked multiple times. He was bent over the dining table, head on his arms. Something fell off his back as he straightened, allowing a chill to creep into his skin. He glanced behind him. Sam’s jacket lay in a heap on his chair, having fallen off Dean’s back.

“It’s not a good idea to sleep on tables.”

Dean looked up. Sam sat at the kitchen table in front of his laptop. He had a cup of coffee in one hand. “You’re awake,” Dean grumbled and rubbed his eyes.

Sam looked amused. “So are you. What were you doing that you fell asleep out here?”

“Research.” Dean let out a tired breath. “How do you feel? Are you all good?”

“Yeah, I feel fine. Not a scratch on me. Cas healed everything.” Sam’s expression darkened. “He hasn’t woken up yet.”

Dean pinched the bridge of his nose, a headache behind his eyes. “What time is it?”

“Nine.”

Dean didn’t remember falling asleep, but seeing as his laptop was dead and he felt a little rested, he assumed he’d gotten in a few hours of sleep. “Where’s Jody?”

“I drove her into town earlier, so she could get her car.” Sam gave his brother a concerned look. “You look like hell, man.”

Dean ran a hand through his hair. “We should leave as soon as Cas’ angels pick him up.”

“That won’t be until tomorrow.”

Dean nodded and stood. He walked over to his brother and clasped Sam’s shoulder tightly. “Don’t leave me behind again.”

Sam looked up at his brother and nodded wordlessly. Needing no other assurance, Dean walked away. He headed upstairs and down the long hall to Castiel’s room. The angel lay on his back, perfectly still, save for the even rise and fall of his chest. He looked better than yesterday. Color had returned to his skin, and when Dean laid a hand on his forehead, Castiel felt a normal body temperature.

Dean sat beside the angel on the edge of the bed. “You better not die. We need you.” He held his face in his hands. “I need you.”

The silence weighed on Dean. All he could hear was Castiel’s soft breathing and his own troubled thoughts. This wasn’t the first time he’d had to confront the possibility of Castiel’s death—nor would it be the last—but no matter how many times they’d been down this road, it never got easier.

Something tugged at the bottom of Dean’s shirt. He turned to see Castiel’s blue eyes looking up at him. The angel gripped Dean’s shirt. “Hey,” Dean said softly. “How do you feel?”

“Tired.” Castiel looked around the room. “What happened?”

“You passed out when I was driving back.”

Castiel sat up and clutched his head. “Damn.” He ran a hand through his messy hair. “When was that?”

“Last night, about twelve hours ago.”

When Castiel nodded and stretched his neck, relief washed through Dean. The angel seemed normal.

“Hey, Dean!” Sam called up from downstairs.

“Yeah!” Dean called back.

“I’m going out to get breakfast!”

“All right!”

Dean rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m going to take a shower,” he said to Castiel. “You should take it easy.”

Castiel lifted a hand to Dean’s cheek, moving his thumb over the cut on it. As soon as Dean felt the warmth of grace in the touch, he pulled back. “No, you’re not using any more grace,” Dean said firmly. “Just relax. You need rest.”

Castiel frowned but didn’t argue. Dean stood and walked to his room. He got a change of clothes and a towel. There were two bathrooms upstairs, but he headed down to the only bathroom with a steam shower. The warmth of the steam eased some of the tension in Dean’s muscles. More than anything, he felt tired. In the span of a few days, he’d endured tengus, angels, and demons. A chance to relax, even if only for a few minutes, was invaluable.

The door to the bathroom opened. Dean didn’t rise from where he sat on the shower’s ledge. “I thought I told you to rest, Cas,” he muttered.

Castiel’s form was distorted against the shower glass as he leaned against it. “I’ve rested enough.” He let out a long sigh. “I have to leave tomorrow.”

“I know.”

“We might never see each other again.”

Dean stared at the drain in the floor. “I know.”

Silence fell. For a long minute, they said nothing. “You scared the hell out of me,” Dean admitted, voice so soft he wondered if Castiel had heard him.

Castiel inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly. “I’m sorry.”

When Dean didn’t reply, Castiel continued, “I came here to seduce you while I still have the chance.”

Dean couldn’t help but chuckle at Castiel’s candor. “At nine in the morning after a hellish night?”

“Can you think of a better time?”

Dean shook his head—though he knew Castiel couldn’t see him. Sam would be back with breakfast, and likely, they wouldn’t have time alone after. This probably was their last chance together for a while. 

“You can’t seduce me from out there, can you?” Dean said. He watched as Castiel’s distorted form undressed outside. Seconds later, Castiel stepped into the shower. Dean stared at the angel’s naked body, eyes drifting over muscle and scarred skin. Castiel’s hands shook as he took Dean’s face in his hands.

“Cas,” Dean rasped, seeing the tremors. “You don’t have to force yourself.” He covered one of Castiel’s hands with his own. 

Castiel bent until their faces were only inches apart. “I’m not. I just wish that things were different. That this wasn’t another way to say goodbye.”

Dean cupped Castiel’s cheek in his hand. “Don’t think about it. Just be with me.”

Tentatively, Castiel brought their lips together. He was unusually gentle, as if he thought he might break Dean. His hands drifted slowly down Dean’s neck, then to his chest. Dean didn’t know why Castiel was being so cautious, but he returned the kiss with the same tenderness. Only when Castiel’s thumb brushed over his nipple did he lose his gentleness. He deepened the kiss, snaking his hand through the angel’s hair and pulling him closer. 

Whatever restraint Castiel had had broke in an instant. He pushed Dean into the wall. Dean didn’t even register the cold tile making contact with his back. Castiel’s tongue in his mouth was urgent and demanding, each stroke and thrust sending shots of electricity to Dean’s groin. Castiel’s hands drifted down a muscled abdomen, sweeping lower with deliberate slowness. Dean’s hips surged forward when Castiel’s fingers wrapped around his hardening flesh.

Castiel kissed a line down Dean’s neck as he moved his hand in soft, teasing motions. Dean wasn’t sure what to do with the waves of sensation coursing through him. Part of him wanted to take the lead from Castiel, but another part of him wanted to relinquish his control entirely, to give himself over. When Castiel dropped to his knees and took Dean into his mouth, what control Dean had vanished. His head bowed back as a low moan rumbled out of him. Castiel’s head moved counter to the rhythm of Dean’s hips. The tile of the ledge Dean sat on grew slick with sweat and the steam condensation.

While Castiel wasn’t experienced, the way his tongue and lips moved kept Dean gasping out the angel’s name. Dean’s hand caught in Castiel’s hair as a pressure built at the base of his spine. “Cas, wait,” he breathed. “I can’t—I’m going to—” His words caught in his throat with his breath. Castiel didn’t stop. He took Dean deep into his mouth. The air left Dean in a rush as the orgasm racked his body. Castiel swallowed with every surge as Dean came. When he finally lifted his head, he trailed kisses up Dean’s hip, across his chest, and over his neck. 

Dean felt liquid against Castiel. The angel kissed Dean carefully, almost reverently. Castiel’s hands gripped Dean’s thighs lifted him up the wall. Dean’s pride protested, but he quelled the urge to pull away. Instead, he planted his feet to the floor, pushed Castiel against a wall, and kissed him fiercely. Their bodies pressed together with delicious friction. Castiel’s hands drifted down Dean’s sides, then around his ass. Dean gasped against the angel’s lips when a finger dipped inside him. Castiel paused and licked a slow circle under Dean’s ear. “May I?” he asked.

Dean shivered when Castiel’s finger moved in him. “Yes.”

Castiel pulled away to open the shower door. Dean didn’t know what the angel was doing until Castiel picked up the bottle of lube from his discarded clothes and closed the shower door again. Dean let Castiel turn him, so that he had his back to the angel and his front to a wall. Castiel was careful in applying a liberal amount of lube to his fingers and working it deeper and deeper into Dean. When he found that bundle of nerves surrounding Dean’s prostate, he worked over it until Dean was erect again and legs trembling.

“Cas, stop torturing me like this,” Dean rasped.

Castiel withdrew his fingers and positioned himself. He wasn’t prepared for the tightness or heat that enveloped him when he pushed into Dean. A shudder ran through Dean as Castiel steadily moved deeper, reveling in the tight, smooth heat. When he was all the way in, he kissed the back of Dean’s neck. “Are you okay?” he asked and laid delicate kisses across Dean’s neck. A soft, blue light reflected off the tile beside Dean’s head, and Castiel knew his eyes were glowing.

“Yes,” Dean said breathlessly. “You can move.”

Castiel covered Dean’s hand against the wall. Their fingers intertwined, neither seeming to mind their knuckles pressing into the tile. Castiel moved slowly at first, making sure Dean was comfortable. When he thrust faster, he tried different angles until he found the one that made Dean quiver. The hand that didn’t hold Dean’s reached around and palmed his erection in a counter-rhythm to Castiel’s thrusts.

Power burned through the angel, grace seeming to ignite in his blood. He didn’t resist it this time. With every move of his hips, his grace burned in him, and he let it build in him, driving him almost as much as Dean’s breathless urging.

Dean’s head fell back against Castiel’s shoulder as they moved together. Dean came first. His legs nearly gave out, trembling through the orgasm. Castiel gripped Dean’s hips, supporting him as he continued to drive inside the man. Only a couple thrusts later, Castiel’s grace flared, and his own orgasm shook him. He pressed against Dean as light enveloped them.

Seconds later, the light receded and Castiel stood panting with Dean. Their hands were still connected against the wall. Castiel pulled out of Dean, but kept their hands together. “Are you okay?” the angel asked, turning Dean to face him.

“Yes,” Dean said with a slight smile. Beads of sweat rolled down his body. The cut on his cheek had healed without a scar. Castiel swept his thumb over the formerly marred skin before kissing Dean softly. Dean flipped his hand, so they were palm to palm. He felt drained in a pleasant way. Content.

Castiel sat Dean on the ledge in the shower, found a washcloth hanging on a rack in the wall, and gently scrubbed Dean. “You don’t have to do that,” Dean said. He wasn’t used to having someone take care of him, but at the moment, he found he liked the way Castiel moved the cloth over his body in small circles. 

“I want to do it,” Castiel replied. “Do you not like it?”

“I like it.” Dean leaned forward until his forehead touched Castiel’s. “I love you.”

Castiel drew in a deep breath, as if he could inhale the significance of those three words. “I love you.”


End file.
